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THE 


EAGLE’S EYE 

A True Story of the Imperial German Government’s 
Spies and Intrigues in America 
from facts furnished 

BY 

WILLIAM J. FLYNN 

Recently Retired 

Chief of the U. S. Secret Service 


KOVZLIZED BY 

COURTNEY RYLEY COOPER 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

PROSPECT PRESS, Inc. 

186-192 West 4th Street 




Copyright, 1919, by 
PROSPECT PRESS, Inc. 







€ 



Printed in U. S. A. 

JAN -8 1919 



A508948 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER Page 

I. The Hidden Death .... 7 

II. The Naval Ball ConspiRx\cy . 29 

III. The Plot Against the Fleet . 50 

IV. Von Rintelen — the Destroyer 71 

V. The Strike Breeders .... 91 

VI. The Plot Against Organized 

Labor 113 

VII. The Brown Portfolio . . . 133 

VIII. The Kaiser^s Death Messenger 

— Robert Fay 163 

IX. The Munitions Campaign . . 192 

X. The Invasion of Canada . . 217 

XI. The Burning of ' Hopewell^ 

Virginia 246 

XII. The Welland Canal Conspira- 
tors 271 

XIII. The Reign OF Terror .... 297 

XIV. The Menace OF The 1. W. W. . 328 

XV. The Great Decision .... 354 



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ILLUSTRATIONS 


William J, Flynn, recently retired Chief of the U. S. 

Secret Service Frontispiece \/ 

FACING 

PAGE 

Count Johann von Bernstorff and Dr. Heinrich Albert 10 

This medal, designed to commemorate the sinking of 
the Lusitania, was distributed in Germany two 
days before the vessel was torpedoed . . 23 

The Ansonia Hotel, New York City .... 32 

Portfolio secured from Dr Albert containing docu- 
ments relating to official German intrigue . 134 

The counterfeit passport 167 

A munitions plant destroyed by the Kaiser’s agents 213 / 

The devastation caused by German spies who ‘razed 

the town of Hopewell, Va 260 


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THE 

EAGLE’S EYE 


Chapter I 

THE HH)DEN DEATH 

Below the great oil painting of Kaiser Wil- 
helm, in the Imperial German Embassy at 
Washington, a shghtly wrinkled, nervous man 
sat at a massive desk, an almost obsolete German 
dictionary before him, his fingers running the 
pages, figuring out the numbers, then running 
them again, his lips repeating the numerals of 
many a scattered sheet of paper before him, re- 
peating, re-repeating, then matching up those 
numerals with the page numbers and word num- 
bers of the old dictionary. 

Quite still the room was, except for the whirr 
of the pages and the slight crinkle of the many 
sheets of papers as he referred from one to the 
other. There was little need for reference, how- 
ever, for every page bore the same numerals, the 
7 


8 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


same messages written in strange conglomera- 
tions of numbers that were apparently meaning- 
less — even to many of the persons who had 
brought or sent them to this wrinkled, nervous 
being who sat beneath the painting of the Kaiser. 
And reason enough — for those pages of num- 
bers, those jumbled sequences of numerals, were 
nothing more nor less than the smuggled code 
messages by which Wilhelm Hohenzollern, Em- 
peror of Imperial Germany, sent his daily in- 
structions via the great wireless at Nauen, 
Germany, to the man who directed his spider’s 
"weKof spy activity in the United States, Count 
Johann von Bemstorff, Imperial Ambassador! 

Each morning since the war began. Von Bem- 
storff had received those numeral inscribed 
pages, caught on wireless outfits owned privately 
throughout the United States by German spies, 
who had been placed in America for that very 
purpose. Each day the instructions had come 
from Berlin — ^instructions for the beginning of 
propaganda campaigns, for connivance against 
the Allies, for the handling of the thousand and 
one methods by which Germany sought to strike 
its enemies through neutral America. 

Each morning at 3 o’clock, American time, 
those messages flashed from the tremendous 
wireless tower at Nauen, Germany — ^to find 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 


9 


spies waiting everywhere in America for them. 
On interned ships, in shacks, built far from the 
roar and bustle of the city, even in Fifth Avenue 
residences, were wireless outfits concealed, each 
equipped with its Audien detector, so necessary 
to the catching of wireless waves from a great 
distance. Nor had the members of the Embassy 
itself neglected to take a part in the recej^tion of 
orders from across the sea. Nearly every morn- 
ing at 3 o’clock found Capt. Franz von Papen, 
military attache of the Imperial German Em- 
bassy, and Capt. Karl Boy-Ed, naval attache, at 
a secluded part of Long Island, standing beside 
a racing motor car, to which was attached anten- 
nae, detectors and receiving apparatus, that they 
might personally assure themselves that the code 
messages from overseas were received and started 
on their way to Bernstorff, the master spy. 

So it was that one day in April, 1915, Count 
Johann von Bernstorff worked hard at his task 
of deciphering the maze of numerals that had 
come to him during the night. One by one he 
traced out the numbers, matching them first with 
the page of the old German dictionary, then with 
the words of the aged book, each of which was 
carefully numbered for easy transcription. When 
he had finished, his head bobbed slightly, he 


10 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

pressed a button and almost snapped an order 
at the hurrying man servant. 

“Send Dr. Albert in,” he announced. 

“Yes, Your Excellency.” 

A moment later a tall, dark-haired man, his 
left cheek scarred from a schoolday duel at Heid- 
elberg, stepped into the room. He was Dr. 
Heinrich Albert, fiscal spy for Imperial Ger- 
many, master of its exchequer in America, and 
second only to Bernstorff in what he termed “the 
battle on the American front.” J ust a second he 
hesitated, and then: 

“You sent for me, sir?” 

“I did. Just got a message from Wilhelm- 
strasse.” Bernstorff was talking jerkily, some- 
what excitedly. “The Lusitania must be sunk 
on its next voyage.” 

“Yes?” Dr. Albert asked the question with 
the calmness of a person ordering a cab — or 
choosing a meal. “Well — all arrangements are 
made, are they not?” 

“As far as the submarines are concerned, yes. 
The entire Irish coast has been charted into 
squares, each square carrying the name of some 
fish indigenous to that region. The moment that 
the word is flashed that the Lusitania has sailed, 
a U-boat will be assigned to each one of those 
squares. Then it will be an easy matter for fish- 



Count Johann von l)ernstorfif and Dr. Heinrich Albert 





THE HIDDEN DEATH 


11 


ing smacks, each with a spy aboard, to patrol the 
coast, and send a message from the nearest wire- 
less station — ” 

“Something like: ‘Shipping ten cases of mack- 
erel,’ ” broke in Dr. Albert. 

“Exactly.” Bernstorff looked up with a smile. 
“You and I have discussed that before, haven’t 
we? I had forgotten Well, you know the rest. 
No one will pay any attention to the messages 
except our U-boat captains. They will know by 
them that the Lusitania is entering the square 
named after that particular fish. It should be 
an easy task for them to sink the ship. And it 
must be sunk!” 

“How about the international complications?” 

“They must take care of themselves — after we 
have done all we can do to keep things running 
smoothly. The point is that the Lusitania must 
be sunk! We have a lesson to teach America! 
If we sink a few of their citizens, perhaps they’ll 
be more chary about sending their representa- 
tives abroad to sell goods to the Allies. It may 
make them stop and think awhile before they ship 
their goods to the Allies too — and that’s what 
we’re after.” 

“Suppose America objects to the loss of its 
citizens?” Albert was smiling in a quiet, quizzi- 
cal way. 


12 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

‘‘We’ll sympathize, of course.” Bernstorff 
looked up with an answering smile. “Really, 
we’ll be very sorry We will mourn for a week 
— but, in the meanwhile, we also will point to our 
manufactured fact that the Lusitania carried 
guns and contraband. That’s where you are 
needed. Take the night train to New York, see 
Paul Koenig, of the Hamburg American line, 
and arrange for him to find someone not averse 
to forging a few affidavits, one to the, effect that 
the Lusitania is loaded with contraband, and an- 
other that she carries defensive guns. And be 
very sure on that point. The rules of war pro- 
hibit the sinking of an unarmed ship without due 
warning. We must have those affidavits.” 

“Very good, sir.” 

“And, Albert—” 

“Yes?” 

“Here” Ambassador Bernstorff lifted a 

sheet of closely written paper from his desk — “is 
an advertisement I have written, warning all 
American citizens from the Lusitania. See that 
it is inserted in the New York papers as close to 
the Cunard Line advertisements as possible. It 
will be our alibi when the Lusitania is sunk.” 

“Very good, Your Excellency.” 

And so it was that with Ambassador Bem- 
storff at the head of the great spy organization 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 13 

which Grermany had built up in America, with 
Dr. Albert, Capt. von Papen, Karl Boy-Ed, 
P aul Koenig and a half a hundred others work- 
ing on the various details of the scheme, that the 
preparations for the sinking of the Lusitania 
went forth in America. 

Day after day passed, while Bernstorff trans- 
lated his code messages from Wilhelmstrasse and 
sent replies in the guise of death messages and 
business telegrams to neutral countries, where 
they were received by German spies, translated 
and telephoned by long distance to Germany. 
Day by day, and then — 

It was April 29, forty-eight hours before the 
sailing of the Lusitania. In the great rooms of 
the Criminology Club in New York, where cos- 
mopolite members daily gathered to discuss the 
themes which formed their chief aim in life, the 
apprehension of the genus criminal, an important 
meeting was in progress.- Harrison Grant, the 
president and organizer of the great private 
criminal chasing brotherhood, stood before them, 
a telegram in his hand. 

‘‘Fellow members,” he announced, ‘T have just 
received the most vital communication that has 
ever come to this club. It is a telegram from Wil- 
liam J. Flynn, chief of the Secret Service, which 
changes the aims and purposes of our organiza- 


14 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

tion to ideals far greater than ever were dreamed 
of when we banded ourselves together to follow 
out our individual hobbies in the chase and cap- 
ture of dangerous criminals. For this telegram 
pits us against the most shrewd violators of the 
laws of God and man that ever were known — the 
paid criminals of Imperial Germany, protected 
by the power of international law, yet criminals 
nevertheless ! 

“All of you know the reason for this telegram. 
It is in answer to the letter we sent to Chief 
Flynn at the last meeting of this club, when our 
various members displayed the evidence that had 
come to them of the perfidy of Imperial Ger- 
many in assuming friendship for this country 
while seeking to violate our neutrality in its ef- 
forts to maim the Allies. More than that, my 
charge you will remember, was that Germany had 
considered America also in its aims of conquest, 
and that it fully believed at the beginning of this 
war that it would crush England and France 
easily, then reach forth for our own country. But 
the danger of active invasion is past now — ^it 
stopped at the battle of the Marne. What we 
must battle against is the more insidious inva- 
sion of Germany’s spies — and their name is Le- 
gion! Therefore, gentlemen, I have the honor 
to announce to you that Chief Flynn has accepted 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 


15 


our offer of services and that the Criminology 
Club is now and henceforth devoted to the de- 
fense of America and the outwitting of the paid 
tools of Imperial Germany who seek to use our 
nation as a battlefield!” 

A cheer that resounded through the great 
rooms of the Criminology Club echoed Grant’s 
speech. Then the members gathered into little 
groups to discuss the new development and to 
plan for the future. As for Harrison Grant — 

He shifted from his position and veered toward 
Cavanaugh, his most trusted operative. 

“Billy,” he announced, “our first blow in this 
matter falls to you. You have seen the adver- 
tisements in the newspapers advising passengers 
not to sail on the Lusitania?” 

“Of course.” 

“Very well. I believe that means the beginning 
of more direct plots against America. There is 
only one way to learn. Von Papen, Boy-Ed, 
Dr. Albert, Heinric von Lertz, their unofficial 
agent in New York — even Ambassador Bem- 
storff himself — ^make a habit of lounging at the 
Hohenzollern Club. We want a dictograph in 
those club-rooms.” 

Billy Cavanaugh twisted his already tightly 
waxed mustache and smiled ever so slightly. 


16 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

“I’ll attend to the details,” he announced 
quietly. 

And while Harrison Grant gave his orders, 
four men were gathered about the big table in 
the Imperial German Embassy in Washington. 
One of them was Bernstorff. Another was Al- 
bert, with his ever-present portfolio in which he 
carried the reports of spies operating in every 
city of the United States. A third was Boy- 
Ed and the fourth was Capt. von Papen. 

The meeting, incidentally, seemed to have been 
a happy one. A supercilious smile skimmed the 
lips of Franz von Papen as he gazed at his co- 
plotters. He waved his cigar slightly before him. 

“These idiotic Yankees will wake up next 
week,” he announced, “it will be something for 
them to think about.” 

“It will be something for the world to think 
about,” echoed the fastidious Boy-Ed. 

“Do you suppose,” Dr. Albert was rummag- 
ing in his portfolio, “it could possibly act as a 
boomerang? America has had its eyes shut, you 
know. For instance, I think Capt. von Papen 
recently reported the burning of several million 
bushels of wheat in its elevators, as well as a train 
wreck or two that have so far been classified as 
accidents. Now, my query is: will the deliberate, 
pre-arranged killing of Americans and the fore- 


THE HroDEN DEATH 


17 


announced destruction of American property on 
board the Lusitania, cause this country to open 
its eyes and inquire about other things that have 
happened? Or will it — ” 

Capt. Franz von Papen smiled with one corner 
of his mouth. 

‘Tf you have ever noticed,” he replied, ‘T have 
always used the term ‘idiotic Yankees.’ ” 

Bernstorff laughed. Albert bobbed his head. 

“Quite so,” he said finally. “I yield the point. 
Now, regarding the Lusitania, when is it des- 
tined to sink?” 

Bernstorff rummaged in some papers, at last 
to bring forth a code message. 

“Potsdam plans the sinking for next Wednes- 
day, May 5. It has already ordered medals struck 
off to commemorate the victory.” 

And while the arch-spies of Imperial Germany 
continued to plot the murder of American citi- 
zens on the high seas, a hthe, dark-eyed girl walk-» 
ed to the stenographer’s desk of one of the largest 
hotels of New York City, with apparently no 
purpose in life save to be pretty and attractive 
and likeable. Spirited she was, with a dash of 
animation wliich caused people to look at her 
more than once, with a sparkle in those big eyes 
which told of a love of life and zest for adventure, 
a tilt to her cliin that spoke of determination, a 


18 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

smooth grace about her which spelled birth and 
breeding and aristocracy. Time was — and not 
so very far in the past — when her name had glit- 
tered in the electric lights of Broadway. But 
the love of adventure had b&n too strong and 
Dixie Mason, daughter of Brentwell Mason of 
Sou’ Car’lina, sur, had forsaken the stage to take 
her place as a quietly commissioned captain of 
women operatives in the Secret Service. And 
now — 

Now she was walking toward the public steno- 
grapher’s desk, smiling and speaking to friends 
in the lobby, apparently thinking of nothing in 
the world, but in reality straining with every 
nerve to catch the message in the Morse code that 
the stenographer was ticking off on the space-bar 
of her t5q)ewriter: 

“This .... is the .... man .... I .... 

spoke .... of He thinks . . . .he’s 

..... a lady .... killer.” 

Dixie Mason’s sense of humor could not resist 
a trifle of a smile, and quite accidentally, as she 
smiled, she glanced toward the rather tall, sleek 
German who stood reading a dictated letter he 
just had received from the stenographer. The 
German’s eyes rolled. Quite “accidentally” 
again, Dixie Mason allowed her swagger stick 
to fall to the floor. An instant later the Ger- 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 


19 


man had bent forward, started to pick up the 
stick, and with intentional clumsiness, stepped 
on it, breaking it. He swept his silk hat in a 
flourishing bow. 

“Dunnerwetter!’’ he exclaimed, “such clumsi- 
ness! And I had such good intentions!” Dixie 
Mason smiled again. She started to speak — ^ 
then stopped suddenly as the stenographer’s 
voice broke in. 

“I’m sure he is more than sorry,” she inter- 
rupted. “Miss Mason, this is Mr. Heinric von 
Lertz. He is such a gentleman, and I know that 
he is so sorry!” 

Dixie Mason had not placed Molly Farris in 
that hotel lobby for nothing. Quietly she pressed 
the “stenographer’s” hand and hstened to Hein- 
ric von Lertz’s apologies. With the result that a 
half hour later found them at luncheon, and with 
the further result that three hpurs later found 
Dixie Mason back in her apartment and smiling 
to herself as she brought forth an innocent ap- 
pearing letter from a small filing cabinet. The 
t^vinkling little lines of humor gathered about her 
lips as she scanned the lines: 

“My Dear Miss Mason: 

“Thanks for your letter. James is doing fine 
and by hard work has gotten into a position of 
trust in the private bank of two fine old Ger- 


20 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

mans, Schneider and Wurtz. However, he in-’’ 
tends to tell no one until he receives his first 
raise. 

“Sincerely, 

“Wallace J. Claflynn.” 

Universal Salvage Sales Go. 

RRF-WJC 

“Code signal RRF,” said Dixie Mason as she 
looked at the stenographer’s signature, then 
scanned the letters and signals in the cabinet, 
finally to bring forth a bit of celluloid, perforated 
here and there with aimless appearing holes. A 
quick motion and the celluloid had covered the 
paper. Then the message stared forth ; 
work into 

trust of Ger 

mans 

tell no one 

W J. flynn 

u s s s 

A low laugh sounded as Dixie Mason returned 
the code letter and celluloid to its resting place. 

“Not bad,” she breathed happily. “The Chief 
sent me that letter four days ago. Already I’ve 
taken luncheon with Heinric von Lertz, chief 
henchman for Bernstorff, Von Papen, Boy-Ed 
and Albert, and he has asked me to go to the 
theatre with him tonight. And if I don’t con- 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 21 
tinue to keep in his company, it won’t be my 
fault 1 1 rather think,” and Dixie Mason laughed 
softly, “that .Heinric von Lertz is going to be 
quite valuable!” 

But time was short. Two days later, the great, 
sleek Lusitania glided out of New York harbor 
and started upon the first phase of its journey 
across the seas, carrying with it 1,250 passengers, 
more than a hundred of whom were Americans, 
the pride of America’s theatrical, editorial and 
financial worlds ; American aristocracy and 
American common people, but all Americans, all 
equal in their standing in the light of the Liberty 
statue, supposedly safe from warring nations, in- 
nocents, traveling toward a deliberate German 
murder. 

Too short a time for Harrison Grant and his 
men to gain their knowledge of what was going 
on in the Hohenzollern Club. Only that morn- 
ing, Cavanaugh had reported progress — the as- 
surance that the dictograph would be in the 
Hohenzollern Club by the end of the next week. 
Too short a time for Dixie Mason to obtain the 
confidence of Heinric von Lertz and learn from 
him the details of the plot against America. Too 
short a time 1 The Lusitania was doomed I 

The very moment of her sailing, a furtive-eyed 


22 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

spy had rushed to a cable office, to send the fol- 
lowing cablegram to Europe: 

“L. H. Guerz — ^Amsterdam, Holland. 

“Lucy has entered last phase of illness. 
Doctors say progress until Thursday normal. 
After that, difficult to diagnose. Therbold.” 
Alreafdy the message was traveling under the 
sea, while the spy reported to von Lertz, and 
while another spy in Amsterdam anxiously 
awaited its arrival. And when he received it, his 
code-educated eyes read an entirely different 
message from that of a mere announcement of 
an illness, a message which thrilled his craven soul 
with the information: 

“Lusitania has sailed. Course until Thurs- 
day normal. After that, unknown.” 

A hurried ten minutes in which the spy turned 
to a specially installed telephone, sent the mes- 
sage to Nauen and thereby to Cuxhaven and to 
every other U-boat base of Germany, where 
waited the scavengers of the sea, Germany’s 
submarines and their commanders. More, from 
Nauen the message flashed to hundreds of men 
on the Irish coast, apparently fishermen, who ar- 
ranged to speed forth as far as possible into the 
ocean, and to wait day and night for the sight 
of the vessel, that they might spy it to its doom. 
Expensive — of course! But all battles are ex- 





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(lays before the vessel was torpedoed 



THE HIDDEN DEATH 


23 


pensive, and Germany was planning the death of 
women and children in what it would call one of 
the greatest “victories of the war/’ Were not 
the medals that would be issued to commemorate 
the “victory” already being struck off? And had 
not even the date been placed thereon in char- 
acteristic German “efficiency?” Germany had 
named May fifth. And May fifth they would be 
distributed. For where was there a chance for 
the Lusitania to escape? 

Nor did the fact that May fifth passed with no 
message from the U-boats cause Germany to 
hold back those medals. On they went to the 
populace, while flags fluttered in Berlin to an- 
noimce the “victory” that had not yet happened. 
Everywhere were the U-boats. Everywhere were 
the fishing smacks, fiashing out the supposed busi- 
ness message that carried the code word of the 
position of the great ship. Time and again the 
sleek greyhound of the sea dodged destruction 
only through her speed. But in the distance 
more U-boats were lurking. The end was in- 
evitable. 

May sixth. Then May seventh. Into the 
rooms of the Criminology Club hurried Billy; 
Cavanaugh to seek out Harrison Grant and to re- 
port with a little smile: 


24 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

‘‘There’s something interesting for you in a 
room adjoining the Hohenzollern Club.” 

Harrison Grant raised his eyebrows. 

“Got it fixed, Billy?” 

“Yes, sir. Broke a water pipe leading into the 
club, then hurried for the plumber shop that al- 
ways attends to their work. Good fellow there — ■ 
thorough American. He let me fix the leak. 
And while I was fixing it, I also fixed the dicto- 
graph — ^just behind the picture of His Imperial 
Majesty, William HohenzoUem.” 

Harrison Grant laughed happily and reached 
for his hat. A half hour later he lifted the re- 
ceiver of a dictograph to his ear. Stewart, the 
relief operator, watched him. 

“I’ve just been listening,” he announced. 
“Think von Papen, Boy-Ed and Wolf von Igel 
just came into the club. Couldn’t sw^ear to it, 
though.” 

Harrison Grant nodded slightly, the dicto- 
graph still to his ear. Then he started. Hurriedly 
he turned: 

“Put this down: 

“ ‘Paul Koenig has assured us that a man will 
swear that the vessel carried guns. Also that an 
affidavit will be given that she was loaded with 
contraband. Dumba can be counted on to espouse 
our cause — ” 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 


25 


“What does it mean?” Cavanaugh stepped for- 
ward. Grant frowned. “Can’t tell, von Papen’s 
doing the talking. Now Boy-Ed has joined him: 

“ ‘Surely we should have heard before this. Do 
you suppose any tiling could have gone wrong? 
Surely they were prepared. But today’s May 
seventh, and it should have happened May fifth. 
If—.’ ” 

“All right. What’s the rest?” Stewart looked 
up from his copying. Grant shook his head. 

“They’re mumbling — I can’t hear. They 
seem to have all gotten over in a corner with their 
heads together and are trying to talk so that no 
one around the club will hear them. But — wait 
a minute — they’re talking louder now — no, 
they’ve settled down to that buzzing again — I 
think I hear a telephone ringing — ^von Papen has 
just told Boy-Ed to answer it. Wait now — ^wait 

55 

A strange silence in the dictograph room. 
Harrison Grant adjusted the receiver closer to 
his ears. He pressed a hand strainingly against 
it, as though to aid him in the hearing of what 
was going on over in the next room. But im- 
possible. 

And at that moment, out on the open sea, the 
passengers of the Lusitania were strolling hap- 
pily about the decks after a jovial luncheon. 


26 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Someone looked at his watch to absently note 
that the time was 2.82. And as he raised his eyes 

The deadly, gray serpent-like form of a peris- 
cope as it raised itself above the waves. The 
wake of a torpedo as it hissed its way through 
the water. Then a great rolling roar, a shock 
that trembled through the whole vessel, a sicken- 
ing lurch and plunge, the thunder of an explo- 
sion — 

Hours later, in the dictograph room, Harri- 
son Grant again leaned forward. 

“That telephone again 1” he announced. “I 
wonder what it means? Boy-Ed always answers 
it. There he goes again. Guess he’ll mumble in- 
to it, just as he’s done all day — no, he’s talking 
louder this time — ^it’s something about a ship — ” 

His hand clenched. 

“I can’t get it,” he grumbled. “If he’d only 
talk louder — what’s that — the Lusitania?” 

“Lusitania?” The two other operatives looked 
up quickly. Harrison Grant nodded slightly. 

“Yes. Heard him say something about the 
Lusitania. Seems to be getting some kind of a 
rei)ort over the telephone, as though some spy 
were telling him something that had happened. 
Now he’s left the telephone — ^he’s gone back to 
the others — good God!” 


THE HIDDEN DEATH 27 

The two operatives leaped to their feet at the 
ejaculation from their chief. Their staring eyes 
saw that his cheeks were white, that the blood was 
slowly leaving his lips, leaving them purplish, 
ghastly. 

“TheyVe ordered a toast to the Kaiser!’’ he 
announced coldly, “a toast — in commemoration 
of Germany’s Victory ’over the Lusitania! It can 
mean only one thing — !” 

And as if in answer, up from the streets of 
New York there radiated the shouts of the news- 
boys, calling the headlines of the first “extra:” 

“Lusitania sunk! Lusitania sunk by German 
submarine! Klein, Vanderbilt, Hubbard and 
thousand others missing. Extr^’’ paper! Extry 
paper, all about the sinking of the Lusitania!” 

So that was the German victory! The Lusi- 
tania sunk! Wearily Grant sank into a chair, 
the dictograph receiver still to his ear. On the 
other side of the wall three men had raised their 
steins to the picture of the Kaiser, toasting him 
for the idea which had enabled the fishing smacks 
to wireless the news of the Lusitania’s course to 
the waiting submarines, for the distorted brain 
which had devised the messages of fishermen into 
instruments of death, for the ungodly, demon-like 
cunning that had conceived the death of women 


28 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


and children to be a German “victory!” Dron- 
ingly the words come over the dictograph: 

“To the Kaiser! May he continue his glorious 
victories, abroad — and here!” 

“Abroad — and here!” murmured Harrison 
Grant between his clenched teeth. “And ‘here’ 
means America!” 


Chapter II 


THE NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 

Thus the news of the sinking of the Lusitania 
came to New York, to throw a saddening cloud 
upon what was planned to have been the hap- 
piest week of many years. For in the Hudson 
River, great, sleek leviathans of the deep, the 
sixty-four vessels of the Atlantic fleet had drop- 
ped anchor to await the President’s review, while 
the streets, the theatres, the restaurants, bore the 
glorious flutter of flags and bunting, and the blue 
and white of the navy uniforms were everywhere. 

And now that the Lusitania had been sunk, 
now that the lives of more than a hundred of 
America’s best citizens had been sacrificed to the 
lust of Imperial Germany, those big vessels 
seemed to take on a new meaning, a new sig- 
nificance. In New York harbor primarily only 
for a review and for a jolhfication, they now as- 
sumed their real proportions in the eyes of the 
populace, displaying to Eastern America just 
for what they could be depended upon in case of 
29 


30 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

war. And with every day, that danger seemed 
closer. For America resented the sinking of the 
Lusitania. The great crowds around the bulletin 
boards, watching daily the steadily lengthening 
list of the dead, called for vengeance, for repay- 
ment from this monster nation across the Atlan- 
tic that could kill women and children and glory 
in it as a ‘Sdctory.” Every telegram from Wash- 
ington, every news dispatch, emphasized the 
gravity of the situation. And no one knew bet- 
ter that gravity than did Harrison Grant of the 
Criminology Club. 

Working day and night with his companions 
of the Club, Grant had hurried to the uncovering 
of the conspiracy to present forged affidavits as- 
serting that the Lusitania carried guns and con- 
traband. Clue after clue was run down, while in 
Washington, the Imperial German Embassy 
worked just as hard in the opposite direction, 
covering the tracks of its plotters and its spies, 
seeking to proclaim to America the sorrow which 
it assumed over the sinking of the great British 
liner. To some the sorrow seemed sincere. To 
others — Harrison Grant among them — ^that sor- 
row was known to be only a mask, thrown hastily 
on to deceive America and to keep America at 
peace until Germany felt itself able to cope with^ 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 31 


it and strangle it as it sought to strangle the rest 
of the world. 

And so the days went, in moves and counter 
moves. Day after day the populace, by the hun- 
dreds of thousands, gathered on the banks of the 
Hudson to look at the tremendous battleships 
and to glory in their power and effectiveness. 
And while they did so — 

Four men were meeting again in the embassy 
at Washington — the same four who generally 
gathered there, Franz von Papen, Karl Boy-Ed, 
Dr. Heinrich Albert and their leader. Ambassa- 
dor Bernstorff. Point after point they discussed 
regarding the sinking of the Lusitania and the 
possibility of war. At last — 

It was Dr. Albert who was speaking, pawing 
through the reports that he had dragged from 
his beloved portfolio: 

“Marsden reports,” he announced, “that the 
feeling in the West is quite strong over the Lusi- 
tania. While I believe our foreign office may be 
able to drag the situation out until the fever heat 
of war is passed, still I fancy it would not be a 
bad idea on our part to make such preparations 
as may be necessary in case the United States 
should suddenly determine to avenge the death 
of its citizens. Now — ” 

Karl Boy-Ed, naval attache, interrupted. 


32 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

‘T believe we have anticipated you there, my 
dear Dr. Albert,” he said smoothly. “Kindly tell 
us what you believe to be the greatest defensive 
and offensive agent which America has against 
Germany at the present time.” 

“Why the great Atlantic fleet, of coursed’ 

“You mean the one that is in New York at the 
present time for review?” 

“Of course.” 

“And if my good comrade von Papen and my- 
self should tell you that we have already made ar- 
rangements to make this fleet incapable of work- 
ing either for the defense of America or for an 
offense against Germany, what would you say?” 

Dr. Albert brought his hand down on the desk 
with a thumping bang. “I shoifld call it a master 
stroke!” he announced. 

Boy-Ed looked at von Papen and smiled. 
Then he turned to Dr. Albert again. 

“Then, my dear Doctor, your mind may rest 
easy. Capt. von Papen and I have arranged a 
scheme which will make the great Atlantic fleet 
wholly useless in event of war. Rather, we have 
arranged two schemes. One of them is planned 
for the Naval Ball at the Ansonia Hotel in New 
York tonight, which will be attended by practi- 
cally every navigating officer of the fleet. The 
other is held in reserve in case the attempt to- 


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NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 33 

night fails. It is a trifle more daring — and I 
might say, a bit more spectacular. Even his Im- 
perial Highness, the Emperor, would delight in 
seeing it! But of course, we are holding that for 
the coup de etat^ as it were, in case the plan u- 
night fails.” 

It was as they discussed the details of their 
plot for the night that Harrison Grant hurried 
from his office in the Criminology Club in answer 
to a call from an operative : 

“They want you in the dictograph room I” 

Ten minutes later, the investigator of crime 
leaped from a taxi around the corner from the 
Hohenzollern Club and made his way to the room 
adjacent to the German meeting place. Stewart 
and Cavanaugh were awaiting him anxiously. 

“Something doing,” said Stewart as he raised 
his eyes to his chief. “IVe been catching stuff 
for the last half hour.” 

“What about?” 

“The Ansonia Hotel.” 

“The Ansonia?” Grant came forward quickly. 

“Yes. Anything special going on there to- 
night?” 

“A good deal,” was the quick answer of Har- 
rison Grant. “The Officers of the navy are going 
to have their review ball there. Why?” 

“Because,” and the operative leaned closer to 


34 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

the dictograph, “the indications are that the Ger- 
mans intend to blow it up — and our navy officers 
along with it.” 

“Impossible!” Harrison Grant’s face went 
wliite. “Impossible! Why, all the navigating 
officers of the fleet are to be there tonight — ^the 
whole brains of the Great Atlantic Squadron! 
It would cripple our whole Eastern system of de- 
fense!” 

“Then you‘d better get word to them not to 
attend” came the cold answer of Stewart, “be- 
cause the plans are made — ^to bomb that hotel 
tonight!” 

Harrison Grant’s brow wrinkled. He looked 
hurriedly at his watch. 

“We can’t get word to them now. Most of 
them are away from their ships at entertainments 
^ — ^leaving the ships with only skeleton crews. 
Besides, we can’t empty that whole hotel and just 
let it lie there, a target for some German bomb ! 
No, there must be some other way — but Stewart, 
are you certain about all this?” 

“Here are my notes,” came the answer of the 
operative. “Von Lertz came into the club about 
a half hour ago. Some old German who seemed 
to have some decency in his heart, was reading 
the Abendpost and repeating an editorial in it 
which said that the sinking of the Lusitania 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY S5 
might cause war with Germany;. He appeared 
to be worried about it and that such a thing 
would mean the death of all of Germany’s ambi- 
tions. Von Lertz listened to him for a while and 
then began to sneer at him. He said that after 
tonight, it would be impossible for the United 
States to declare war on anyone. Then — ” 
Stewart referred to his shorthand notes — “he 
used this sentence : 

“ ‘There’s the Ansonia, tonight, you know. 
And there’s Kroner, who’s finishing his master- 
piece in the way of a bomb. And when Kroner 
makes a bomb it generally destroys what it’s in- 
tended for. After he pays his little visit to the 
Ansonia tonight, there’ll be no danger of America 
fighting anyone.’ ” 

“And there wouldn’t,” echoed Harrison Grant, 
“not with navy officers dead and no one to handle 
the navigation of her battleships.” 

He turned to the telephone. A short conver- 
sation and he was facing Stewart and Cavanaugh 
again. 

“Every member of the Criminology Club will 
attend the Naval Ball tonight as guests,” he 
ordered. “Chief Flynn is sending fifty men 
there. The police department will co-operate 
with a special guard. They’ll watch the outside. 
It will be our duty to guard the interior. Come 


36 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

— ^we’ll pick up the rest of the members of the 

Club.” 

And as the three men hurried away, a queer 
appearing, raw-boned scientist hurried about a 
small workroom in- a faraway part of New York. 
Before him was a heavy thing of steel and 
springs and clockwork and trinitrate of toluol, 
the most horrible explosive known. Almost 
lovingly he fingered it. Then he turned to his 
assistant. 

“See that it’s timed for 12.20,” he ordered. 
“That is the time agreed upon. All the German 
contingent wiU be at the ball tonight to divert 
suspicion. When things are moving their best, 
we will slip in and plant the bomb under the 
main stairway. That will give it more breadth 
for destruction when the explosion comes. But 
be sure — ” and he wagged a bony finger — “that 
it is set for not earlier than 12.20. Our people 
must have time to leave the ball and be well away 
before the explosion comes.” 

“Don’t worry,” answered the assistant quietly. 
“I’ve set bombs before.” 

But when the Naval Ball started that night, 
it had more than a hundred guests who had been 
furnished tickets at the last moment. More than 
that, every person of German appearance in the 
great ball room was within the vision of The 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 37 

Eagle’s Eye, the United States secret service, 
while outside — 

Up Broadway, in platoons and in columns, 
came hurrying squads of police, to divide sud- 
denly, to take their positions at the doorways, at 
the hallways, beside the elevator shafts — even on 
the roofs. Everywhere was Harrison Grant, 
directing activities. 

•‘‘Keep your eyes open, men,” he announced. 
“Allow no one in this building who carries any 
kind of satchel or parcel. Cavanaugh!” he called 
to his operative, just passing, “how about the 
cloakrooms?” 

“They’ve all been searched.” 

“Found nothing?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Good. Take four of these men and put two 
on each cloak room. Have you attended to 
searching any new employees who might have 
taken employment here lately?” 

“Yes. All done. The management furnished 
me a list of everyone they weren’t sure of. I 
looked them all over. Everything’s safe there — 
they’re all loyal I” 

“Thank goodness for that. They may help 
us.” 

“That’s been attended to. They all have in- 


38 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

structions from Mr. McBowman, the general 

manager.” 

Grant smiled. 

“You’ve been on the job, I see,” he said. Then 
he glanced at Cavanaugh’s immaculate evening 
clothes. “Looking the way you do, Billy, I don’t 
think it would be a bad idea for you to see if 
you can’t pick out a nice little German girl to 
dance with. It nught cause her escort some 
worry.” Cavanaugh winked and stepped away. 
Grant turned once more to a group of policemen 
whom Stewart was hiding in the palms at the 
head of the stairway. 

“Take no excuse,” he ordered quietly. “If 
necessary, shoot to kill. And in any event, if 
anything looks suspicious, arrest first, investigate 
afterward.” 

Grant turned at a touch on his arm. It was 
Turner, his operative, assigned to the roof. 

“I’ve placed men all around up there,” the 
operative said. “There were two or three places 
— at the head of the dumbwaiter and that sort of 
thing, that would have made good hiding places. 
So I took no chances.” 

“Correct. Now pick out a German and trail 
him.” 

“Yes sir. And you — ?” 

“I’ll do the same — as well as every other mem- 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 39 

ber of the Criminology Club. I want to know 
every move they are making.” 

Turner moved away. Harrison Grant stepped 
forward, chatted a moment with a young woman 
of his acquaintance — then stared. 

Before him, coming toward the young woman 
at his elbow, was quite the prettiest girl — ^to Har- 
rison Grant’s eyes — ^that he had ever seen. Viva- 
cious, beautifully dressed, full of the dash and 
verve that Harrison Grant so admired, quick, de- 
cisive in her movements, yet thoroughly girlish, 
there was an element about her that Harrison 
Grant had never before noticed in another 
woman. Something within him seemed to leap, 
hesitate, then begin to thump with the quickness 
and persistence of a triphammer. Vaguely 
Grant knew that it was his heart. And just as 
vaguely, he knew that he was being introduced to 
this brown-eyed, smiling little being, whose hand 
was so small that it seemed almost cruelty to 
press it — ^yet with a grasp so firm and steady that 
it carried with it the sensing touch of a true, 
strong companion — whose hair was black and yet 
brown, whose smile was frank and yet elusive, 
whose whole being was of the sort to enthrall 
Harrison Grant and to hold him prisoner. 

Then a sudden change. The beating of his 
heart slowed. The sparkle of his eyes dulled. 


40 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


The smile faded from his lips — for just behind 
the girl whose name he had vaguely heard to be 
Miss Dixie Mason, had shown the figure of her 
escort, a man whom Grant had come to hate, a 
man he knew to be responsible for the working 
out of the plot against the Ansonia Hotel that 
night, Heinric von Lertz, unofficial agent for 
Imperial Germany’s murderers. 

As for Von Lertz, he turned somewhat quizzi- 
cally toward the policeman at the door of the 
ballroom, looked at him in a sneering fashion, 
then with a short nod in acknowledgment of the 
introduction to Grant, he asked: 

“Police? Is it the usual thing in America for 
them to attend social functions?” 

“Not unless they’re invited — or needed,” an- 
swered Harrison Grant caustically. 

A quick glance shot between the two men. A 
moment more and Von Lertz had turned to the 
ballroom, taking Dixie Mason with him, while 
Harrison Grant w^atched after her, wondering 
what such a pretty, wholesome appearing girl 
could be doing in the company of a man whose 
business was the representation of murderers. 
pThat she carried a Secret Service commission. 
Grant did not know. The instructions of Chief 
Flynn, ordering her to work into the confidence 
I of the Germans without letting even the fellow 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 41 

members of the Secret Service know her true 
purpose, had attended to that. And Grant saw 
in her only a girl who had chosen as a companion 
a man who was at that moment plotting the very 
downfall of America 1 

However, it was only natural that they should 
meet again during the evening. And it was only 
natural that Grant should ask her to dance with 
him. More, it was only natural that as he looked 
into her eyes, as he felt the firm swing and grace- 
ful lift of her to the swaying music of the fox- 
trot, that he should wish more than ever that the 
stain of her apparent friendship for Von Lertz 
should some day resolve into an innocent one 
after all. As for Dixie — 

As she was swept away again in the arms of 
Harrison Grant, following the encore, Dixie 
wished with a sudden impulse that the touch of 
those arms might some day mean more than the 
embrace of a dance, she wished that she might 
tell this man whom she knew to be the president 
of the Criminology Club that she was really a 
compatriot, that she was working along the same 
lines as himself, struggling for the same ideals 
fighting for — 

But one could only obey orders. Besides, the 
dance had ended, and in the foreground, waiting 
and fretting, stood Heinric von Lertz. 


42 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


A few brief acknowledgments of the pleasure 
of the dance and they parted, Dixie Mason to 
take her place at the side of the German plotter, 
Harrison Grant to hurry forward at the signal 
of Cavanaugh from the .doorway. Grant found 
him nervous, irritable. 

“The dangerous moment has come,” he an- 
nounced shortly. “Look!” 

Far at one side of the room stood a tall Ger- 
man, apparently chatting with his fellow coun- 
try-people as they strolled about after the dance. 
'But as he watched. Grant saw that the conversa- 
tions were extremely short and that following 
each one, every German and his companion 
turned toward the cloakrooms. Billy Cava- 
naugh’s voice broke in once more. 

“He’s warning them all to leave,” said the 
operative. “He’s been doing it for the last five 
minutes. Half the Germans in the place are 
gone now. It’s nearly time for the attempt.” 

Harrison Grant bent close. 

“Send the men to make the rounds of the 
patrolmen,” he ordered quickly. “Tell them to 
keep their eyes open wider than ever. Allow 
absolutely no one to enter this hotel.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Double the guards on every door. What has 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 43 

been done in regard to the other searches that I 
ordered?” 

“Everything’s been accomplished. The hotel 
management has made the rounds of the whole 
place with pass keys. Every piece of baggage 
that cannot be vouched for has been examined. 
Nothing has been found.” 

“Good. Hurry to those patrolmen. I—” 

For Grant had seen in the entrance to the 
cloakroom, the form of Heinric von Lertz, his 
coat over his arm, waiting impatiently for Dixie 
Mason. With a sudden determination, he hur- 
ried forward, to reach the entrance, just as Miss 
Mason came forth, adjusting a loose fold of her 
opera cloak. Grant bowed. 

“Not going?” Miss Mason smiled. 

“I assure you it isn’t my desire,” she said 
quickly. “Mr. von Lertz simply insists on it, 
though. I never was having a better time in my 
life!” 

Harrison Grant turned, to smile into the face 
of Heinric von Lertz. 

“Surely, you wouldn’t spoil the pleasure of 
anyone so sweet as Miss Mason.” 

“I can’t help it, you know,” answered Pleinric 
von Lertz somewhat testily. “My head aches.” 

“Your head aches?” Grant laughed. “And 


44 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

you’re going home on account of that? I’d lose 
my head for a person hke Miss Mason!” 

“Mr. Grant, you’re Irish!” Dixie laughed up 
at him. Grant smiled again. 

“I only wish I were, so I could say the things 
I’d like to say in the way I’d hke to say them. 
But come now, Mr. von Lertz, you’re only jok- 
ing about leaving. Why it’s only midnight.” 

“Midnight?” Von Lertz started. “Then we 
must go. It’s imperative. That is — ” 

And while he hesitated and explained, a taxi 
had driven up outside, at the little triangle which 
divides Broadway at 72nd Street. From the dark- 
ness within, a high cheeked, raw-boned man had 
started forward, a grip in his hand, only to be 
halted by a cowering individual who shot forth 
from a bench at the sidewalk. 

“Back in that cab!” he ordered in a whisper. 
The raw-boned bomb maker started. 

“Why—?” 

“Don’t ask any questions. Back in that cab!” 

“But I’ve got the bomb! Von Lertz said 
everything would be ready for me. I — ” 

“Everything is ready — ^but in a way that we 
didn’t look for,” answered the spy on the side- 
walk. “Look!” 

Quickly and surreptitiously, he pointed up- 
ward. Where the flaring sign of the Ansonia 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 45 

Hotel blazed out upon the night, was silhouetted 
the figure of a man. Ten feet away was another 
— and another — and another. Down on the side- 
walk, a solid cordon of police in uniform was 
drawn about the building. Not a person could 
approach without being seen — the guarding arm 
of the police was absolute. 

“And that’s not all,” growled the spy on the 
sidewalk. “That’s just the beginning. There 
are fifty secret service men scattered about the 
entrances and the areas. Bluer just signalled me 
by the electric light code that even the elevator 
shafts are full of them. I signalled him back to 
tell Von Lertz that everything is off. As for 
you — move away from here quick! There’ll be 
twenty policemen on our shoulders in another 
minute !” 

The taxicab turned swiftly. In another 
moment it had vanished down the street, while in 
the hotel — 

Von Lertz still stood at the entrance of the 
cloakroom, arguing with Harrison Grant and 
Dixie Mason, a scant veneer of pleasantness 
covering his words. 

“But I simply can’t stay,” he was repeating 
for the fiftieth time, “I tell you my head aches.” 

And certainly something was causing a pallor 
to spread over his features, and the cold sweat 


46 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

to break forth on his forehead. Harrison Grant 
knew what it was. From far away, the chimes of 
a church had sounded midnight and faded away 
into nothingness. Grant knew what Heinric von 
Lertz was thinking about — about that bomb and 
the fact that he was practically the only German 
left within the confines of the Ansonia Hotel. 
And so, that he might obtain a trifle of satisfac- 
tion against this cowardly plotter of Imperial 
Germany, he deliberately turned to Miss Mason 
and began the telling of an incident which could 
not be interrupted. And Grant knew how the 
passing of every second ate into the soul of FTein- 
ric von Lertz! 

Then a movement. Someone passed — and in 
passing, slipped a bit of cardboard into the cup- 
ped hand of Heinric von Lertz. Hurriedly the 
German shifted his hand to the interior of his silk 
hat, and under its protection, read the message. 
Involuntarily, his hands clutched. For there, 
scrawled on the cardboard, were the words: 

‘‘Affair abandoned. Too dangerous.” 

Von Lertz coughed, and at the sound, Harri- 
son Grant and Dixie Mason turned. The Ger- 
man forced a smile. 

“I’ve changed my mind — er — ^that is, my head- 
ache’s better,” he announced. “We’ll stay.” 

“Thank you,” said Harrison Grant, with 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 47 

quietly suppressed meaning, “my hopes are raised 
on a veritable bomb of happiness. Miss Mason, 
may I have this dance?” 

“Most certainly.” 

Happily, bouyantly they went toward the ball- 
room, wliile Heinric von Lertz stared after them. 

“I wonder what that idiotic Yankee meant by 
a ‘bomb of happiness,’ ” he mused, “Could he 
have knovTi what I was plotting?” 

The thought brought back the memory of that 
card. Once again he glanced at it, then tore it to 
bits and stuffed it in his pocket. Then, throwing 
his coat to the check boy, he strode toward the 
ballroom. 

“At any rate,” he growled under his breath, 
“they haven’t stopped preparations at the shack.” 

And at the same moment, the taxicab contain- 
ing the old bomb maker had drawn to the curb- 
ing, forty blocks away, where another cab stood 
waiting. A figure came forth from the darkness 
and peered into the first cab. 

“Are you there. Kroner?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright. Everything’s safe. Why don’t 
you hurry?” 

“There’s no need. I didn’t use the bomb.” 

“You didn’t use it?” 

“You heard what I said,” came testily from 


48 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


within the taxicab. “It’s up to you to hurry. 
Get out to the shack and tell those men to work 
night and day to finish up their job!” 

A muffled conversation of an instant more, 
then the taxis parted. An hour later, as Harri- 
son Grant again danced with Dixie Mason and 
Von Lertz seethed over the frustration of his 
scheme, a man hurried into a ramshackle old 
building on Staten Island, near Fort Wadsworth, 
aroused the slumbering figures there and pushed 
them toward a great thing of polished steel, nickel 
and brass that lay nine-tenths finished before 
them. 

“Get to work!” he ordered. “Is this the way 
Imperial Germany is to conquer the earth — by 
sleeping?” 

Grumbling the men obeyed. The spy looked 
about him. 

“Where’s Schmidt?” 

“Here,” came a voice from a corner where a 
man was unrolling himself from a dirty blanket. 

“How’s that wireless controller?” 

“I’m having trouble with it.” 

“And yet you sleep?” The spy was raging 
now. “You get up here and find out what’s 
wrong and remedy it. That wireless controller 
must be in absolute working order — understand? 
It can’t fail! And what’s more, it’s night and 


NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY 49 


day work for every one of you men from now on. 
This thing must be ready to launch the minute 
the fleet weighs anchor. The Ansonia plot’s 
failed. Ever 5 rthing depends on us now!” 

The men grumbled again in answer. A curse 
from the spy and they settled down to work — ^to 
put the finishing touches on a wireless controller 
and on a torpedo, large enough and powerful 
enough to tear even a battleship to fragments! 


Chapter III 


THE PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 

‘‘.What’s happening on the dictograph?” 

Harrison Grant asked the question as he en- 
tered the room adjacent to the Hohenzollem 
Club and looked anxiously toward Dick Stewart 
the operative w^ho sat with the receiver to his ear. 
Stewart shook his head. 

“Same old thing. Arguments. Conversation. 
Jokes. Drinks. Toasts to the Kaiser. That’s 
all I can catch. It’s just the same as it’s been 
ever since the night of the Naval Ball. You 
don’t suppose that they could have gotten a tip 
that we’re in here, do you?” 

Harrison Grant shook his head. 

“Hardly,” was his answer. “We would have 
known something about it. They’d rip that dicto- 
graph out so quickly they’d drag you through the 
"hole after it. No — they’re simply doing their 
talking in other places, that is all.” 

The investigator looked at his watch. 

“Nearly midnight,” he yawned. “I — ” 

50 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 51 

‘‘You’d better go home and get some sleep,” 
the operative broke in. “Cavanaugh and I will 
keep watch — and let you know the minute any- 
thing happens. Don’t you think that’s a wise 
plan?” 

Harrison Grant, with his ever present happy 
nature, smiled in spite of the fatigue that hung 
heavily upon him. 

“I think you must know how much sleep I 
haven’t had!” was his comment. “And to tell 
the truth — I haven’t had any since the night of 
the Naval Ball.” 

He turned to the door, giving his men their 
final instructions for the night. And as he made 
his way homeward, the telephone lines were 
cr adding between New York and Washington, 
Ambassador von Bemstorff at one end and Karl 
Boy-Ed, Naval Attache, at the other. Nearby 
sat Capt. Franz von Papen and Dr. Heinrich 
Albert, waiting for the result of the conversa- 
tion. At last Boy-Ed turned from the telephone. 

“Bemstorff’s anxious about our plans for to- 
morrow,” he announced. “I told him not to 
worry.” 

“Well, there isn’t "anything to worry about, is 
there?” Von Papen hunched forward in his chair. 

“Not if everything’s all right at the shack,” 
answered Boy-Ed. “That’s up to Von Lertz. I 


52 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


instructed him to examine the torpedo and to be 
sure that the men had everything in working 
shape. Then he was to report to us.” 

“Wait just a minute — ” It was the somewhat 
plotting, methodical Dr. Albert who had inter- 
rupted. “Let me understand tliis thing clearly: 
The torpedo is to be fired when the Fleet is going 
through the Narrows. Is that right? Then 
what happens?” 

“A great deal,” laughed Karl Boy-Ed. “The 
principal thing of which is that the Great Atlan- 
tic Fleet will be forced to remain in New York 
harbor and the United States of America will be 
taught just how foolish it would appear in a war 
with a real country like Germany.” 

Albert bobbed his head. 

“I simply wanted to be sure that I understood. 
Personally, I shall watch the fleet sail with a 
great deal of interest.” 

“No doubt.” Von Papen turned with a 
growling laugh, “I will watch it stop with more 
interest. Now, Boy-Ed, where is Von Lertz to 
report?” 

“At the Hohenzollern Club.” 

“Then we’d better be strolling over. It’s after 
midnight now. Good night, Albert.” 

“Good night. Good luck— for Imperial Ger- 
many!” 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 53 

Meanwhile, Dixie Mason was looking into the 
eyes of Heinric von Lertz as they hesitated in 
front of the Midnight Frolic. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather take a trip out 
in the country somewhere — ^to the October Farm 
or something like that.’" 

Heinric von Lertz rubbed his chin in thought. 

“I’ll tell you a better place,” was his an- 
nouncement. “There’s the Ten Mile House. 
Quite racy, it’s true, but very entertaining. What 
do you say?” 

Dixie Mason smiled most engagingly. 

“Why should I worry — as long as I am shel- 
tered by the protecting arm of Heinric von 
Lertz? Besides — ” and she allowed a bit of un- 
sophistication to creep into her voice, “I’m afraid 
my education in roadhouses has been too much 
neglected. It’s — it’s all right for me to go, isn’t 
it?” 

“Oh, of course,” Heinric von Lertz drew him- 
self up pompously, “I’ll look after you.” 

A moment later, Dixie settled back in a comer 
of Heinric von Lertz’s machine and smiled in 
the darkness. She was to have her chance after 
all — ^the chance to learn what had been on Hein- 
ric von Lertz’s mind all evening, why he had been 
so preoccupied, so nervous, so agitated. Dixie 
could not see the pictures in the camera of Hein- 


54 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

ric von Lertz’s brain, she could not see mirrored 

there — 

A rambling shack on Staten Island near Fort 
Wadsworth. The figures of men as they hur- 
ried about the tool-strewn room, one of them 
working on an intricate wireless controller, the 
other polishing and fitting the last necessities of a 
great, shining torpedo, which rested in place to 
be swung to a manhole connecting with a tunnel 
below, which in turn ran to a wharf facing almost 
the Narrows of New York Harbor. 

No, Dixie could not see — all she could know 
was that something was on Heinric von Lertz’s 
mind, that he acted tonight like he had acted the 
night of the Naval Ball and that she was sure 
that before morning she would have some clue — 
some means of knowing what was engaging his 
attention: And while they rode to the Ten Mile 
House, the rendezvous of fast society, the sport- 
ing element and habitues of the lavender life, two 
members of the Criminology Club suddenly 
straightened and listened harder than ever at the 
dictograph connecting them with the Hohenzol- 
lem Club. Dick Stewart turned. 

“It sounds like Boy-Ed and Von Papen,” he 
announced. “But they’re not talking about any- 
thing in particular. They’re settled down to a 
game of cards— and they’re acting like they’re 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 55 


waiting for someone. Maybe we’ll get a tip on 
who it is.” 

Four hours later, the tip had come. 

“Boy-Ed and Von Papen are in there waiting 
for Von Lertz,” announced Stewart as Grant, 
somewhat sleep-eyed, hurried into the room, fol- 
lowing a hasty summons. “They’ve been in there 
ever since a little after midnight, playing cards 
and drinking. Then about an hour ago they be- 
gan to get nervous. After that, they began to 
watch the clock and to talk about Von Lertz. I 
didn’t think there was any necessity for waking 
you up. Then one of them said something about 
the fleet, and I got nervous — ” 

“The fleet?” Grant stared. 

Dick Stewart nodded his head. 

“That’s all I could catch. Seems Von Lertz 
is attending to something about the fleet — ^but 
neither one of them has mentioned what it is. 
Wait a minute — ” 

The operative leaned forward to the dicto- 
graph again. 

“They’re sending a man to see why Von Lertz 
hasn’t reported.” 

Grant went quickly forward. He took the re- 
ceiver from Stewart’s head and beckoned to 
Cavanaugh. 

“Take Stewart’s place,” he ordered. “Stewart, 


56 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


you cover that man. See where he goes. Report 
to me at the club.’’ 

A quick movement and Stewart was gone. 
Five minutes later, Harrison Grant, lingering in 
the doorway of the building adjacent to the 
Hohenzollern Club saw the dim figures of two 
men walking far down the street in the grey light 
of dawn. One of them was the man who had 
been sent forth by Von Papen and Boy-Ed. The 
other was Dick Stewart, member of the Crim- 
inology Club, beginning the chase that was to 
end — ^where? Harrison Grant wished that he 
could know! 

Nor did Grant know that an ally was working 
in his behalf, an animated, smiling little ally who 
stood in the entrance to her apartment, saying 
goodby to Heinric von Lertz. That person was 
laughing somewhat thickly — his glass had been 
filled many times during the night. Dixie Mason 
extended a hand, but the German plotter waved 
it aside. 

“And you only shake hands with me?” he 
asked. 

“Isn’t that enough?” 

“Not if you could know how madly I love you, 
how I adore you, how you fashinate — ” 

“Fascinate, you mean, don’t you?” 

“Yesh — yes — of course. What did I say?” 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 57 

‘‘Oh, nothing — oh, Mr. von Lertz, pleased 

For Von Lertz had striven to take her in his 
arms and was pressing his lips toward hers. As 
she half struggled with him the German smiled 
in apology and dropped his arms. 

“I just wanted one teeny-weeny little kiss,'" 
he announced. “I thought — well, I just thought 


“I’m not in a habit of being kissed,” answered 
Dixie Mason, pouting. Von Lertz straightened. 

“Goo’ little girl!” he praised her. “Goo’ little 
girl! I am now more fashinated than ever! 
Good night!” 

“Good day,” echoed Dixie Mason, glancing at 
the light of dawn without. Then as Heinric von 
Lertz strode forth, she turned quickly to one side. 
Hurriedly she opened a little memorandum book 
that she had extracted from the pocket of the 
‘German plotter while she had struggled with him 
to prevent the kiss that he had sought to implant 
on her lips. Quickly she scanned the pages, 
finally to start forward, an involuntary cry 
breaking from her lips. She glanced hastily down 
’the street toward where Von Lertz’s machine was 
fading in the distance, then ran toward a taxi 
stand at the corner. 

“Follow that machine that just left here!” she 
'ordered, as she hurried into the car. Then, tak- 


58 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


ing out her secret service commission and passing 
it before the eyes of the chauffeur, she ad- 
monished : 

“The safety of the Atlantic fleet depends on 
us! Don’t lose sight of that machine for an in- 
stant! Where it goes — ^^ve’re going — and the 
man who is in it must not know we’re following!” 

“Don’t worry, Lady,” came the quiet answer 
of the chauffeur. “I’ll keep him in sight.” 

Dixie Mason leaned back in the machine again. 
Once more she brought forth the note book. 
Again she looked at the line which had burned 
itself into her brain ; a line that read : 

“Examine torpedo before fleet sails.” 

A half hour later. Von Lertz’s machine was on 
the ferry, crossing to Staten Island, while Von 
;Lertz himself dozed in the tonneau, little know- 
ing that just behind him, on the same ferry was 
another machine containing a person very much 
awake, Dixie Mason, determined to learn just 
exactly where he was going and who he intended 
to see there. 

So much for the Ally who was working for the 
said Harrison Grant. And in the meantime, the 
person upon whom he had really counted was 
having his difficulties. 

Far over on Staten Island, the spy whom Dick 
Stewart had trailed from the Criminology Club 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 59 

had turned into thick underbrush, circled, seen 
the man behind him, lain in wait, and then, with 
one powerful blow, felled him, hurrying on 
toward the shack and workers on the torpedo. 

But that delay, while it had placed Dick 
Stewart in a position where he could no longer 
follow the spy from the Hohenzollern Club, had 
saved Dixie Mason from an embarrassing posi- 
tion. For that delay had been just long enough 
for Dixie Mason to see Heinric von Lertz enter 
the shack, to watch him leave again, then to al- 
low the little daredevil of the secret service to 
creep to the shack, ascend an old ladder which 
she found leaning against the building, and peep 
through the old trap in the roof. And there she 
saw 

Two men busily engaged upon the torpedo, 
which they were making ready to lower through 
the manhole into the sewer. One of them was 
talking : 

“Von Lertz looked like he’d been out all night 


“Yes. That’s the way he is most of the time. 
But that’s the way with the ones higher up. They 
can go out and play — while we do the work. But 
when the Iron Crosses are distributed, they get 
them, not us.” 

A growl from the third. 


60 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

“Shut up. You’re better off here than you’’ 
.would be in the trenches. This is easy work for 
you. I get tired hearing you reservists kicking 
on a little easy campaign work over in this 
country when you might be handling the minne- 
werfers over in Flanders. But, let’s stop this 
talking. The fleet will sail in a few hours now. 
We’ve got to have this torpedo ready to launch 
at the flagship.” 

That sentence was enough. Dixie hurried 
from her position on the ladder, started down 
— then winced as she struck the ground. One 
foot had struck in a chuck-hole, twisting the ankle 
severely, and slowly and painfully, she limped to 
her car, where it was concealed in the shadow of 
a great, dismantled boiler. The driver hurried 
forward to her aid, assisting her within. At the 
door of the taxi, Dixie, half turning with the pain 
of her ankle, failed to notice that her reticule 
slipped from her wrist and fell to the ground. 
Nor did the driver. He leaped to his place at the 
wheel and turned expectantly. 

“Where to now?” he asked. 

“A telephone — just as quick as you can make 
it!” Dixie answered. Her voice was faint from 
the pain of her sprained ankle. 

“How about a doctor for that foot?” the driver 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 61 

•was staring at the expression of agony on the 
girl’s features. 

“Never mind that. Where’s a telephone.” 

“In a roadhouse, down the line about three 
.miles.” 

“Get to it — dhurry!” 

A moment more and the machine was scurry- 
ling along the lonely road, toward the roadhouse 
and toward the warning that Dixie sought to 
send the Secret Service. But as the machine 
roared its way along through the early morning, 
the spy from the Hohenzollern club entered the 
shack on Staten Island, his eyes wide with excite- 
ment, his voice snapping as he sent the men 
scurrying faster than ever in their work. 

“There’s danger! I just knocked a Secret 
Service man over in the woods. They’re after 
us! Bar that door and barricade it! We’ve got 
to get this torpedo into place before they catch 
our trail. Every minute means danger!” 

Slowly the torpedo swung at its fastenings. 
The spy from the Hohenzollern Club lifted the 
cover of the manhole. And as the spies in the 
employ of Imperial Germany started to lower 
the torpedo into the sewer, Dixie Mason clung 
grimly to the telephone at the roadhouse, waiting 
for the answering voice from the other end of 
the wire. At last it came — the voice of Chief 


62 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Flynn who had just entered the office for the day. 
His voice went keen and bright as the warning 
from Dixie came over the wire. Hastily he as- 
sembled the facts as she told them. Then: 

“A good night’s work. Go home to bed. I’ll 
•handle everything.” 

He lifted another ’phone and called the Crim- 
inology Club. 

“Busy” reported Central. For Dick Stewart 
•was at that moment detailing the story of the as- 
sault upon him and the reasons he had failed in 
his quest. But Chief Flynn was already work- 
ing on another angle of the protection of the At- 
lantic Fleet. 

A quick call to the Harbor Police. A moment 
later and with a scurrying rush, the power- 
launches of the New York Police department, 
their machine guns ready for instant action, shot 
forth into the bay. Another call and the Chief 
gained a clear wire to the Criminology Club. A 
few crisp orders and Grant and his men were 
hurrying by motor to Staten Island, to pick up 
Stewart on the way and rush to the shack that 
had housed the torpedo. But would they reach 
there in time? Grant would have given much to 
know. 

Out in the bay, here, there, everywhere, the 
boats of the harbor police were scattering, up 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 63 

toward the great, monstrous forms of the battle- 
ships, where, flags fluttering, the preparations 
were being made for the start of the President’s 
review, searching under wharves, around lighters, 
hurrying to the protection of the Mayflower, 
whence the President would review the fleet — 
honeycombing the harbor in their search for sus- 
picious characters, seeking everywhere for the 
torpedo that was planned to send a flagship to 
its doom, block the Great Atlantic Fleet in New 
York harbor and cripple the defense of the great- 
est nation in the world. 

But so far, the torpedo was safe from their 
search. In the dark confines of the sewer, it had 
been lowered and shunted to its mouth, where it 
lay concealed from view under the piling of an old 
dock. Back in the shack, Schmidt, the electri- 
cian, labored furiously on the last connection that 
would make the torpedo available for its deadly 
use — the wireless controller. 

Hurriedly he made the finishing touches, while 
down at the mouth of the sewer, the plotters 
watched the gathering boats across the way, the 
waving flags, and bright hued decorations that 
shone and shimmered with the bright sunlight of 
morning. From far in the distance came the 
screaming of sirens and the hoarser-throated 
sound of hundreds of tugboats, ferries and river 


64 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

craft. The review had started. Aboard the 
Mayflower, the President of the United States 
was to see the pride of the navy as it steamed 
forth to the open sea and — 

“If Schmidt only gets here with that control- 
ler,” seethed the spy from the Hohenzollem Club 
as he watched the fleet in the distance through 
his binoculars, “If he only gets here!” 

“How long will it take to attach it?” An- 
other plotter was staring toward the distance. 

“Ten seconds. We’ve got plenty of time in 
that way — if he only gets here with it!” 

A sound from the tunnel. It was Schmidt, 
lugging the controller forward. The spy from 
the Hohenzollem Club turned with a quick order. 

“You get back there and guard the shack,” he 
ordered of the third plotter. “We’ll attend to 
things down here.” 

The German retreated into the sewer. Schmidt 
began the placing of the wireless controller in 
its position. The spy from the Hohenzollem 
Club looked again through his binoculars. 

“We’ll launch the torpedo just as the flagship 
rounds the point there. Understand?” 

“Perfectly!” Schmidt was testing his connec- 
tions. 

They looked at each other then — and laughed. 
America was at their mercy, they thought! For 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 65 


they did not know that as they gloated over the 
coming fate of the flagship, Harrison Grant and 
his men were forcing their way through the door- 
way of the shack above them! 

But only emptiness greeted the members of 
the Criminology Club as the door crashed open. 
Harrison Grant glanced about him quickly. 

‘‘They’re gone — they’re already in the sewer!” 
he exclaimed despondently. “We’ve got just one 
chance — to head off that torpedo when it starts! 
You men hurry to Buffan’s landing and get the 
reserve launch there. I’ll investigate here.” 

“All right,” then Stewart turned. “Here’s 
something I picked up just outside. Should 
have given it to you before — but my brain’s 
working a little slow since that blow on the head.” 

He passed a reticule to Harrison Grant who 
stuffed it in his pocket. The men departed. 
Grant looked hastily about the shack then veered 
to a corner at a sound from below. 

Someone w^as coming back. There — ^the sewer 
manhole moved a little. Then a bit more — ^then 
it raised while the figure of a man started upward 
and through it. Grant crept forward. A quick 
leap, he seized the plotter by the throat, chok- 
ing him and at the same time dragging him back 
on the floor. A moment more and he had bound 
him, dragged him to a corner and almost ihrowii 


66 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

him there, then started down the manhole. But 
as he groped blinking through the darkness, 
Schmidt and the spy from the Hohenzollern Club 
sighted the prow of the flagship as it rounded 
the point below them, swung the torpedo into 
position and shunted it, seething into the water! 

A few steps forward and Grant saw what had 
been done. There were two men, both with their 
backs to him, one guiding the torpedo with the 
wireless controller, the other leaning forward, 
pointing out its course as it made its way, slowly 
at first, then faster, toward the thundering flag- 
ship. 

Everywhere was noise, the screaming of 
whistles, the booming of guns as the battleships 
fired their salutes before the Mayflower. Harri- 
son Grant crept forward unnoticed. 

Ten feet — then six — then three, while the spies 
stared outward, unaware of the approach of the 
detective. Harrison Grant gathered his full 
strength. A tremendous kick and he had sent 
one of the plotters sprawling into the water. A 
great lunge and he was at the throat of the spy 
from the Hohenzollern Club, struggling to drag 
him from his hold at the wireless controller. 

A struggle that seemed destined to fail. With 
almost superhuman strength the spy fought him 
off, still clinging to the key of the controller, 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 67 

feinting, dodging, squirming in the grasp of the 
master detective, biting, kicking, butting — ^but 
still holding to that key that was sending the tor- 
pedo faster and faster through the water, driving 
it on and on toward the flagship of the great At- 
lantic Fleet, threatening it with destruction — and 
the bottling of the entire fleet in the waters of 
New York harbor. 

Doggedly they fought. Again and again 
Grant’s hands closed about the throat of the spy, 
only to be thrown off. Then slowly, steadily^ 
Grant began to bend the plotter in his grasp. 

Closer, closer — Harrison Grant bent his head 
toward the wrist of the hand that held the key 
of the wireless controller. Then, a quick motion 
and his teeth closed upon the flesh, biting into 
the sinews and muscles, causing the spy to leap 
from his post with a cry of anguish. But the 
fight was not over. 

“Think you’ve stopped us, eh?” The spy al- 
most shouted the words. “Well, you haven’t. 
That torpedo’s got speed enough now — it’ll reach 
that ship all right. It’ll — ” 

But Grant had swung him about now and was 
forcing him to the edge of the sewer platform. 
Closer — closer — ^the end was inevitable. But 
would it avail anything? A glance out into the 
Narrows and Grant saw that the torpedo was 


68 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

heading straight on its course now, while far in 
the rear, the reserve launch, containing his men, 
was striving vainly to summon the speed to over- 
take it. On and on it was going — a moment 
more and it would crash into the side of that mas- 
sive, thundrous battleship, a moment more — 

All the strength that Harrison Grant pos- 
sessed sped into the sinews of his arm and back. 
With a great wrench, he freed the grasp of the 
spy upon him. Then with a tremendous lunge, 
he literally raised the form of the struggling man, 
and threw him, high over his shoulders and into 
the tremendous currents below! 

A great leap. Harrison Grant was at the key 
of the wireless controller. Quickly he reversed 
it, sending the current crackling out over the 
Narrows. But would the effect come in time? 
Would the electric current swerve the course of 
that torpedo soon enough to save the great battle- 
ship before it from destruction? Gasping and 
panting, Harrison Grant watched for the result, 
his soul agonized, his heart pounding with aching 
severity. A second — and the torpedo had not 
moved from its course. Another — Harrison 
Grant bent forward happily. Out there in the 
choppy waters of the Narrows, he believed he 
had seen the torpedo swerve slightly — yes, there 
it had moved a full three feet from its course — 


PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 69 

Now ten — look! The men on the reserve 
launch were waving their arms and clambering 
to the top of the launch as it sped along. The 
torpedo had moved more in its course — now it 
seemed to be turning — ^it was turning! A great, 
glad cry broke from the lips of Harrison Grant. 
The torpedo was making a full semi-circle in the 
water now — on the roof of the reserve launch a 
Criminology Club detective was preparing to 
dive into the water for the desperate purpose of 
kicking the Tvireless antennae from the explosive 
monster and making it useless, while on beyond, 
there where the guns were booming, where the 
flags were flying and the bands were playing, the 
Great Atlantic Fleet, safely, triumphantlj^ w^as 
sailing through the Narrows, out to the freedom 
of the open sea! 

Harrison Grant watched happily for a mo- 
ment, then turned to make his way back through 
the tunnel and to the interrogation of the cap- 
tured spy. It was then that he noticed that his 
brow was covered vdth a cold perspiration, that 
his collar was wilted — ^in spite of the almost cold 
^day — ^that he was shaking and trembling from 
the excitement of the chase. He reached for his 
handkerchief, then hesitated at the touch of the 
reticule in his pocket. Wonderingly he brought 
it forth and examined it. 


70 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


“A woman’s party chatalaine,” he mused. 
“Some spy that’s mixed up in this thing, 1 guess. 
Dropped it coming from the shack. I wonder if 
there’s anything in it to give a clue to her iden- 
tity.” 

He pulled open the bag. He stared a moment 
at the initials of the card case which lay within, 
then opened it feverishly. The wondering ex- 
pression of his eyes changed to grimness. His 
lips resolved themselves into a straight line. 
Slowly they repeated the name on the card ; 

“Miss Dixie Mason!” 

The battleships in the distance seemed to fade. 
The sound of the sirens, the booming guns, all 
drifted into nothingness. Dully, monotonously, 
the lips of Harrison Grant framed the words : 

“Dixie Mason! So she was the one! Dixie 

Mason — a spy!” 


Chapter IV. 


VON RINTELEN THE DESTROYER 

Months of apparent calm followed the plot 
against the fleet — a calm, however, which existed 
only on the surface, for beneath the veneer of 
friendliness for America, Ambassador von Bern- 
storff and his aides, Capt. Franz von Papen, 
Capt. Karl Boy-Ed and Dr. Heinric Albert 
still were scheming and working for the downfall 
of America in their insatiable desires to defeat 
the Allies. More, they had received aid from 
abroad, in the person of an intimate friend of 
the Crown Prince of Grennany, Franz von Rin- 
telen, sent to America for the ostensible purpose 
of promoting friendhness between Germany and 
America, but in reality with a bank account of 
more than fifty milhon dollars, to spend on any 
form of death and destruction that he might see 
fit — as long as it harmed the Allies. And wheth- 
er the harming of the Allies also brought its 
attendant injury to America, made little differ- 
ence to Franz von Rintelen or his cohorts. The 
71 


72 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

United States had been described by Dr. Heinric 
Albert as “the American front,” and so they re- 
garded it — as a battlefield upon which to make 
their advances and counterthrusts against the 
Allies, regardless of the consequences to the land 
for which they professed such friendliness and 
such regard. 

So it was, that in the spending of that fifty 
million dollars, Franz von Rintelen had built 
himself up practically a separate organization 
with which he preyed upon shipping, industry 
and manufacture. River pirates who swarmed the 
Hudson to scuttle lighters, to start fires in car- 
goes, to cut hawsers and mangle the steering ‘ap- 
paratus of tugs that they might crash into each 
other and sink with their cargoes; so called 
“Peace Councils,” which strove for the spreading 
of propaganda on any kind of peace at any price 
— as long as it was favorable to Germany; al- 
leged “Embargo Conferences,” the sole object 
of which w^as to spread a feeling throughout 
America that it was wrong for the United States 
to manufacture arms and ammunition which 
could be sold to the Allies — all these things lay 
within the province of Franz von Rintelen, to 
handle as he chose, with only an occasional confer- 
ence with Ambassador von Bernstorff at which he 
told of his progress, and laid forth his expense 


VON RINTE.LEN— DESTROYER 73 

accounts for the ofBcial signature of the head of 
Imperial Germany’s spy system in America. 
And so quietly had his organization been built 
up, so thoroughly had Franz von Rintelen con- 
cealed himself behind a cloak of supernumeraries 
and “straw bosses” that even the cleverest of the 
members of the Secret Service had failed as yet 
to gain a clue to his real activities. But there 
were suspicions — and among those who held them 
was Dixie Mason. 

“No Mamette,” she was saying as she stood 
by the window of her apartment, watching the 
sunset and talking to her negro maid, “I have no 
positive evidence against Franz von Rintelen. 
I doubt if I ever will. I only know that there 
is something about him which makes me believe 
that he is at the head of the river pirates and 
commerce destroyers who have sprung up around 
the harbor recently. But I can’t be sure.” 

“How about Mista von Lertz?” Mamette 
spoke the name with a tinge of hatred. For 
Mamette, black though she was, could see only 
three colors, the red, the white and the blue. Dixie 
smiled at her tone. 

“I’ve tried — and tried hard. But Von Lertz 
seems afraid to tell me much about him. The best 
clues I’ve gotten have been through Agnes Tay- 
lor, who is working on the switchboard at Von 


74 THE EAGLE S EYE 

Lertz’s apartment. She has reported several 
conversations between Rintelen and Von Lertz, 
but they have been generally meaningless. I — ” 

The tingling of the telephone had interrupted. 
Dixie aiiswered, to hear the voice of Agnes Tay- 
lor, the operative who had been placed at the 
switchboard of Von Lertz’s apartment house. 

“Miss Mason?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you know — ” the voice was low, guarded 
— « “anyone named Walter Schleindel?” 

“No— why?” 

“He works in some bank. Reports to Paul 
Koenig of the Hamburg American line who pays 
him for information. From what I can gather 
he steals information from manifests and bills of 
lading coming into the bank for payment.” 

Dixie Mason smiled. 

“So that’s the way they know just when to 
rob freight cars in the yards and when to sink 
lighters, is it? I’ll telephone the Chief. How 
did you learn?” 

“Some man just called Von Lertz. Told him 
that Schleindel had reported 3,000 head of horses 
just received at the Allied barns at Jersey and 
to go at once to the shack at Crow Crossing — ” 

“I know where it is.” Dixie Mason’s eyes had 
narrowed. “Just above the old rock crusher on 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 75 

the Vernon road. What was Von Lertz to do 
there?” 

‘T couldn’t catch all of it — I heard something 
about the ‘tools’ and to ‘use the new methods.’ I 
couldn’t recognize the voice.” 

“It wasn’t Paul Koenig?” 

“No, nor Bernstorff, Von Papen or Boy-Ed.” 

“Then it must have been Rintelen.” 

“I couldn’t be sure — he changes his voice so 
often.” 

Dixie smiled again. Then she turned from the 
telephone. 

“Mamette,” she called. “Get me out a plain 
dress of some kind — something that I can ‘rough 
it’ in.” 

“Yes, Missy — ^but Laws, yo’ ain’t goin’ to 
stick your head into danger, is yo,’ Missy?” 

“I’m going to find out what’s happening at 
Crow Crossing,” said Dixie with quiet deter- 
mination. “Hurry, please, Mamette.” 

And while she made her preparations, Harri- 
son Grant stood in the dusk, talking to the watch- 
man of a stevedoring plant on the Jersey side of 
the Harbor. 

“I’m from Chief Flynn’s office,” he was say- 
ing, “I received an order to — ” 

“I know all about it,” the watchman answered. 
“The foreman left instructions for me. We’re 


76 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


crating automobile ambulances for shipment to 
France. I want to show you something that we 
found today.” 

He led the way into the stevedoring shop, there 
to point out the axle of a great chassis — and to 
swear quietly as he looked at it. 

“German spies done it!” he announced. “No- 
body else would have been so dirty and low. 
These are ambulances, y’ know — ambulances for 
use on the battlefields. And you know what’d 
happen if that ever got on a shell-torn field.” 

He pointed to the axle of the car. There, 
where the putty had been removed by the work- 
men who had discovered it, was a great, jagged 
hole in the steel of the axle, a hole burnt by an 
acetylene torch, converting the axle into a weak, 
shallow shell, doomed to break with the first bolt- 
ing strain. Grant frowned as he looked at it. 

“So that’s the game, eh?” he said. “That’s 
why so many ambulances have been breaking 
down in France! That’s why — ” 

He turned sharply, the watcltman with him. 
Far at one side of the opposite dock they had 
seen the shadow of a man as it slunk along, hid- 
ing behind the boxes and bales as he made his 
way from light to darkness. Grant sped for- 
ward, the watchman beside him. A moment more 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 77 

and the shadow leaped forth, to seek escape in 
the maze of shipping on the docks. 

But impossible. Headed off by closed doors, 
he veered, dodged, swerved in his course and 
leaped past the guard of an interned liner, seek- 
ing to spring from it to the next in his effort to 
escape. 

An effort that failed. Blocked again, he 
veered once more, crashed his way through the 
door of the ship’s wireless room, then whirled, 
a chair lifted high over his head. But the blow 
did not descend. The tactics of the football field 
had come into play for Grant — and with a quick 
motion he had blocked the blow of the spy, dis- 
armed him and forced him against the wall. Fif- 
teen minutes later, he was listening to the con- 
fession, forced in jerky sentences from the spy’s 
lips: 

“A guy gave me $100. to set fire to the docks,” 
he was saying. ‘‘That’s all I know. He was 
some fellow who worked around the waterfront 
here. I’d gotten a lot o’ money offen him and I 
wanted more. I belonged to his magneto and 
axle gang.” 

“His what?” Harrison Grant bent forward. 

“His magneto gang. We’d steal the magne- 
tos offen automobiles that was goin’ to France. 


78 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

He’d give us five dollars for every one we stole — 
then let us have ’em to sell.” 

“Another little system of harming ambulances, 
eh?” said Grant slowly. “What about the 
axles?” 

“We burned ’em with an acetylene torch — so 
they’d break down when they hit the battlefields 

99 

“So they’d break down, when they were filled 
with wounded!” The words came from Grant’s 
lips in scathing denunciation. “And you confess 
to it — ^you mongrel!” His hands clenched — ^it 
was all he could do to keep them from the throat 
of the craven being before him. “Now you tell 
your story and tell it quick!” 

Ten minutes later Harrison Grant turned to 
the guard of the interned ship, meanwhile eye- 
ing the detectors, the batteries and sending ap- 
paratus of the wireless in the room. 

“This wireless in working order?” he asked 
sharply. 

“Yes.” 

Harrison Grant stepped toward it quickly. A 
moment more and he was sending forth the code- 
call of the Criminology Club. For the spy, while 
not able to tell the names of the directorate of 
those who engineered the heinous business of dis- 
abling ambulances, at least had given informa- 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 79 

tion that was more than valuable — ^the fact that 
a “burning party” had been scheduled for that 
night — and naming the location and the freight 
yards. 

Again and again Harrison Grant sent out the 
call — at last to receive an answer. Then his mes- 
sage snapped over the airlanes to the city be- 
yond: 

“Criminology Club: 

“Meet me Stevens Point quick. Come 
armed. 

“Harrison Grant.” 

And while Harrison Grant waited, Dixie 
Mason, her automobile hidden in the shadow of 
the old rock crusher, crept to the side of the little 
shack at Crow’s Crossing. The sound of voices 
came from within, low, indistinct. Again and 
again Dixie strove to hear what was being said — 
but only failure greeted her. Then — 

A pine knot, half hinging in its receptacle, 
caught her glance. Stealthily she wormed it 
loose, to peer within. Men were there, men who 
were pouring gasoline into small fuzeed, metal 
containers, men who were making their prepara- 
tions for hurried flight, and receiving orders as 
they did so. Already two of them were at the 
doorway. 

“Take the shortcut to the Allied stockyards,” 


80 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


one of them was sajdng. “We’ll burn the bams 
— ^you look after the other part of the yards. Now 
hurry!” 

They were gone, while Dixie cowered in the 
shadows. Stealthily she watched them cross the 
patch of snow and ice before the cabin, then dis- 
appear, unable to move for fear of detection, her 
brain seething with plans and hopes. But they 
were faint! The spies had taken the “short cut” 
— one that Dixie did not know. 

The telephone? There was none The police? 
There was no way to reach them. Only one thing 
remained for Dixie Mason to do — to scramble as 
fast as possible to her machine and to race across 
country to the Allied horsebarns. But would 
she be able to reach there in time? 

The battle of wits and courage was on! Over 
at Steven’s Point, Harrison Grant had leaped to 
the running board of a motor car as it had 
rounded a comer and shouted to the chauffeur: 

“Faster, old man! They’re destroying Red 
Cross supplies in the railroad yards!” 

Then as the machine spurted forward, the 
president of the Criminology Club leaned toward 
his men. 

“See that your revolvers are in working order. 
Spies are burning the axles of ambulances. We 
have every right to shoot to kill!” 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 81 

The men nodded. Cavanaugh opened a new 
box of cartridges. The machine sped on through 
the semi-darkness toward the railroad yards. As 
for Dixie Mason — 

Veering into the stockyards district of New 
Jersey, she raised in her machine and waved 
madly to a crowd of horse wranglers, just com- 
ing forth from a pool hall. 

“Quick I” she called, “there’s danger at the 
horsebarns !” 

Then, driving harder than ever, she sped for- 
ward, in a last vain attempt to reach the barns 
before the spies could light their bombs. 

Before her loomed the shadows of the barns, 
with their thousands of animals within. And 
scrambling up a telephone pole toward a window 
showed the form of a German fire-fiend. 

Harder than ever pressed the foot of Dixie 
Mason against the accelerator of her car, while 
her soul raged within her. Not content with sink- 
ing the ships that carried innocent horses and 
cattle to France, not content with filhng their 
oats with steel barbs, painted yellow and de- 
signed to be eaten by the unfortunate animals, 
not content with poisoning the water of these 
beasts who were a part of the war only through 
the will of others. Imperial Germany now was 
resorting to worse measures to gain its “vie- 


82 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


tories,” the horror and agonizing torture of fire! 
Dixie’s lips pressed firm. Then, her anger 
drowning all thought of danger, she skidded her 
maclaine until it almost overturned as she veered 
from the stockyards alley into the areaway of the 
horsebarns, made her way through the great door- 
ways, then sent her automobile thundering up the 
runway to the second floor — there to leap forth 
and run toward the form that had just entered 
the haymows. But too late! 

Already the tool of Imperial Germany had 
touched a match to the gasoline filled container. 
Already the fuse was spluttering, while with a 
great, sweeping motion, the spy threw the bomb 
far into the loose hay and hurled his gigantic 
form toward the struggling Dixie. A moment 
more and he had felled her, then scrambled into 
her machine, reversing it and sending it at peril- 
ous speed down the runway and out through the 
opposite doors, bowling over two of the rustlers 
as they strove to make their way through the al- 
ready heavy clouds of smoke, and tearing on 
toward freedom. And in the loft of the mam- 
moth barn, Dixie Mason lay unconscious, the fire 
gaining greater and greater headway all about 
her, where the gasoline discharge had fired the 
conflagration everywhere ! 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 83 

Imperial Germany had succeeded in a part of 
its scheme at least. But in another — 

Out in the railroad yards came the crackle of 
a revolver' shot as Harrison Grant and his men 
surprised two men in the interior of a box car, 
hard at their task of burning the axles of an auto 
with an acetylene torch. A spy fell maimed, 
while from seemingly everywhere, other spies 
broke from the cars and sought safety. 

But safety that was far away. For the mem- 
bers of the Criminology Club had spread them- 
selves in the lanes between the great masses of 
box cars, to leap forth as the spies ran aimlessly 
about in their search for shelter, to seize them, to 
shackle them. Atop a box car where he had 
climbed after the first onslaught, Harrison Grant 
moved swiftly here and there, shouting his orders 
to the operatives below. In ten places at once, 
the battle was mounting to the proportions of a 
life and death struggle — with the members of 
the Criminology Club in the ascendancy. But 
at the horsebarns — 

Up in the loft, Dixie Mason stirred to con- 
sciousness as the flames ate closer. Down below, 
where the maddened animals were screaming and 
stamping in their fright, came the sounds of 
shouts, of curses and yells as the horse wranglers, 
summoned from every part of the yards, strug- 


84 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


gled to release the flame-frightened animals. 
Through a chink in the frame wall of the build- 
ing, Dixie could see another red glare, starting in 
the distance — ^then the forms of thousands of 
beasts as they sped forth to safety, freed by the 
men who had rushed to their assistance the minute 
the alarm had been given by Dixie. Everywhere 
was the milling rush to save — save — save, while 
men risked their lives that the lives of horses and 
cattle might be spared, wliile men took risks and 
men braved death — and while Dixie Mason 
struggled impotently to fight her way through 
the ring of fire that seemed to have closed all 
about her. 

The smoke ate its stinging way into her cring- 
ing lungs, choking her, gagging her. She sought 
to scream — but the screams were lost in the wild 
conglomeration of noises from below, the shrieks 
of fear maddened horses, the surging work of 
rescue. Here, there, back again she struggled, 
only to face everj^where a wall of fire that inch by 
inch was eating toward her — a lining, writhing, 
all consuming circle of death! 

The flames had eaten their way through por- 
tions of the roof now and were spreading the 
flare of their flames against the sky. Over in the 
railroad yards, Harrison Grant, receiving the re- 
ports of his men as they checked up the list of 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 85 

captured spies, glanced into the distance, started, 
then whirled to the members of the Criminology 
Club. 

“Shackle those men together!” he ordered 
sharply. “Leave them in charge of Sisson — he 
can handle them. Then everyone come with me 
— there’s a fire at the stockyards I” 

Quickly the orders were obeyed. Quickly the 
men swept forward under the leadership of Har- 
rison Grant to aid the hundreds of horse wrang- 
lers and cattlemen in their maddened efforts to 
release the flame threatened animals. And as they 
did so, Dixie Mason was making her last des- 
perate effort at escape. 

Death in the flames or death in a leap — ^Dixie 
Mason chose the chance of the latter. She had 
fought her way forward, beating out the flames 
that caught her dress, smothering her free hand 
against her nostrils to shut out the paralyzing 
effect of smoke and gasoline vapors, seeldng 
from the sounds from below to ascertain an 
area into which she might leap with some oppor- 
tunity for safety. 

At last it came. A lull in the milling rush 
from below. Dixie fought her way to a railing, 
swung under it, hung there for one, long, 
trembling instant, then, just as a whirling rush 


86 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

of horses cleared the way beneath her, she drop- 
ped. 

The fall stunned her for a second. Then the 
roaring sound of plunging animals brought her 
to her senses, just in time to enable her to 
scramble out of the way of a flame crazed group 
of horses as they surged past her, then reeling, to 
seek through the smoke the freedom of the open 
air. 

Someway, somehow, she managed to waver to 
the outer doors of the big barn, there to gasp at 
the cold, life-giving atmosphere that surged into 
her lungs — then to run forward whitefaced at the 
sight before her. 

Everywhere was fire — ^fire which raged about 
the sheds, fire which licked its way along the rail- 
ings of the cattlepans, which ate at the chutes 
and connections, fire which seethed and spit and 
crackled. From far in the distance came the 
clanging of bells and the hissing of steam — ^the 
hastily called fire apparatus of twenty stations, 
fighting against the flames — but fighting a losing 
fight. Dixie’s hands clenched. 

“The cowards!” she exclaimed, “the fiends!” 

“Look out there. Miss!” It was the friendly 
shout of a horse wrangler as he pushed her aside. 
Down the alleway sounded a thundering roar as 
twenty shouting men drove before them a great 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 87 

mass of wild-eyed, galloping horses. The 
wangler shouted happily as they passed him. 

“That’s the end of ’em,” he said heartily, “we 
were luckier’n we thought.” 

“The end of them?” Dixie Mason turned hope- 
fully. “Then you managed to save ” 

“Most of ’em Miss. We got some help from 
an unexpected quarter. Bunch of Secret Service 
men who were over in the yUrds chased over here 
and took the load off our minds o’ loosenin’ the 
cattle in the south end. That let us put all our 
work on the dangerous part of the yards.” 

“Secret Service men?” Dixie Mason started. 
“Do you know any of them ” 

“Nobody. A fellow gave his name as Grant, 
but ” 

“Harrison Grant?” 

“Think so.” 

Dixie Mason turned sharply. Harrison 
Grant must not see her there — it would mean the 
necessity for explanations — explanations which 
might not be easily forthcoming. From far away 
came shouts — the shouts of men approaching 
through one of the alleys which as yet had been 
untouched by the flames. Dixie hardly heard. 
All that she knew was that she must leave the 
vicinity of the fire as soon as possible — content 
in the knowledge that her work had not gone for 


88 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

naught after all. Most — if not all — of the 
horses and cattle had been saved. Imperial Ger- 
many had destroyed American property in the 
shape of barns and pens — ^but it had at least 
failed to destroy the lives of the innocent beings 
against which it had plotted. 

Almost aimlessly she turned to the railroad 
yards to escape the roaming droves of horses and 
cattle that were swirling everywhere. On she 
went, crossing track after track, as she sought the 
streets and the open. The light of the fire flared 
higher — and with it a slight exclamation came in- 
to Dixie’s throat at the sight of a man before her. 

Hurriedly she swerved, leaped between two 
closing box cars of a flying switch, and then, as 
the man pursued, jumped across the track upon 
which was approaching a rapidly traveling train, 
hurrying on to where her deserted automobile 
showed its dull form, where it had been aban- 
doned by the fire fiend. Once she looked back — 
to discern the fact that the man still watched her 
beneath the long train. Then she hurried on 
again. 

Back in her apartment, she reported to her 
Chief, to give the name of Walter Schleindel and 
her suspicions against Franz von Rintekn. An 
hour more went by and the telephone rang to 
bring the news of Schleindel’s arrest, and his con- 


VON RINTELEN— DESTROYER 89 

fession, of how he had used the bank as a clear- 
ing house for German spydom, stealing the in- 
formation of the manifests and bills of lading of 
Allied shipments which came in there for collec- 
tion by the consignors, then in turn, selling this 
information to Paul Koenig of the Hamburg 
American line. Dixie smiled happily. 

“How about Rintelen?” she asked. A slight 
ejaculation of disgust came over the wire. 

“My men failed to find him. Someone must 
have notified him of the arrest of the auto 
burners in the railroad yards. At any rate he 
has left his hotel, without giving an address.” 

All of which was correct. For Franz von Rin- 
telen was at that moment telephoning to Bern- 
storff, and announcing to him that in future, his 
name would be E. V. Gates and that his 'busi- 
ness’ would be that of a ‘purchasing agent,’ — but 
that Imperial Germany’s work of destruction 
would still continue. 

And meanwhile also, at the Criminology Club, 
Harrison Grant, tired from his labors of the 
night, hesitated at the doorway to call an opera- 
tive. 

“Bailey,” he said, “I want you to take a 
skirmish around and see what you can learn 
about a girl named Dixie Mason.” 

“Who is she?” 


90 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Harrison Grant smiled grimly. 

“I’d give a good deal to know. Apparently 
she’s an ex-actress. At least, that’s what her 
friends tell me. Time was too, they say, when 
she was very communicative and friendly. Now 
she tells no one of her plans or of her activities. 
And strangely enough, my path has crossed hers 
twice in places where only the agents of Imperial 
Germany could consistently be. She was at the 
fire tonight.” 

“At the fire?” Bailey stared. “Are you 
sure?” 

“I have a good pair of eyes.” said Harrison 
Grant, “I saw her there — not fifty feet away. 
I chased her — but a train cut me off.” 

Bailey raised a hand to his hat. 

“I’ll see what I can find out,” he said quietly 
and left the building. But Grant continued to 
stand there, staring at the fioor — wondering — 
wondering what this woman whom circumstance 
again and again gave the accusation of being a 
German spy, could have played in this latest evi- 
dence of Imperial Germany’s ghoulish cruelty! 


Chapter V. 


STRIKE BREEDERS" 

It was late at night. In his private oiSce, Har- 
rison Grant was puzzling over a report by Tom 
Bailey, an operative, announcing a condition 
rather unpleasant for the president of the Crim- 
inology Club. For the letter simply announced : 
“Harrison Grant, 

Criminology Club. 

Dear Sir; 

Beg to report that all I can learn about, Miss 
Dixie Mason is that she is almost constantly in 
the company of the Germans, particularly 
Heinric von Lertz. 

Yours truly, 

Bailey, 

Operative.” 

Thereby, for Harrison Grant, a mystery re- 
mained unsolved, a mystery which nettled him^ 
angered him. It had been weeks — months — since 
he had first met Dixie Mason, months in which 
he had constantly seen her in suspicious sur- 
roundings — yet never in a position to betray her. 

91 


92 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Once he had even gone so far as to send a special 
report on her to Chief Flynn — a report which the 
Chief naturally received with a hidden smile and 
the announcement that he would have the affair 
investigated from his office, that Grant allow her 
activities to pass unnoticed in the chase for big- 
ger game. But when a man is hovering between 
love and suspicion, he is not likely to allow every 
opportunity to slip. Hence the private investi- 
gation which Grant had ordered to be made by 
his operative, Bailey, with the resultant report. 
Half angrily Harrison Grant filed the report in 
his cabinet and returned to his desk, moody, 
silent 

Not knowing, of course, that in a faraway part 
of the city, Dixie Mason was reading for the 
twentieth time, an excerpt from the evening 
paper containing an interview with Harrison 
Grant, and musing over the visualized features 
of the man she loved, brought before her eyes by 
the cold, staring type of the interview. Naturally 
Grant could not know that — and Dixie could not 
tell him the secrets that she must tell no one, the 
secrets that she must hold against the incHnations 
of her heart, that the battle against Imperial 
Germany might be won. 

And that the battle still was imminent, was 
more than apparent in the stooped, bearded fig- 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS 


93 


ure of a man who stood fumbling at the lock of 
an office in one of the biggest buildings of lower 
New York. He had kept in the shadows on his 
way to the office. He had shielded his face in 
the elevator — and for a reason. Franz von Rin- 
telen, arch plotter for Kaiser Wilhelm, friend of 
the Crown Prince, and special Emissary to the 
United States with more than fifty million dol- 
lars to spend on destruction, was living under an 
alias. He had shifted his office since the capture 
of his river pirates by Harrison Grant, changed 
his name to E. V. Gates, and even had resorted to 
the melodramatic level of false beards and dis- 
guises that he might carry on his devastations. 

And just how far he went in this regard, 
was exhibited later, when Rintelen sought 
to flee America on a forged passport, only 
to be caught at Falmouth, England, and re- 
turned to the Tombs in New York, where he re- 
cently was sentenced for his activities against 
America. In his trunks at that time, were found 
more than thirty suits of clothing, each designed 
to give him a different personal appearance, each 
built in such a way that they would make liim 
seem a different appearing man with every suit 
he donned. His wigs and beards he left in 
America, to be discovered by the members of the 
Secret Service who searched his office. 


94 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

But this narrative must tell the activities of 
Rintelen in America, not of his flight. And 
while Harrison Grant sat musing in his office, 
Franz von Rintelen removed his false beard, di- 
vested himself of his coat with the humped 
shoulders, then turned happily at the sight of a 
shadow on the door. A moment later and he was 
chatting with Dr. Heinrich Albert, chief fiscal 
spy for Imperial Germany in the United States, 
and disburser for every fund except the activities 
of Franz von Rintelen. Dr. Albert held forth a 
telegram. 

“I suppose you received one also?” he asked. 

“From Bernstorff?” Rintelen looked up 
quickly. “Of course. I heard from Captain von 
Papen and Captain Boy-Ed also. They will be 
here. Did Bernstorff’s message to you name a 
time?” 

“No ” Dr. Albert had removed his over- 

coat, displaying the usual immaculate evening 
clothes, “he simply told me to meet him here to- 
night for an important conference. By the way, 
is Von Lertz coming?” 

“I told him. He should be here now.” 

But instead, Heinric von Lertz was attending 
to another angle of Imperial Germany’s cam- 
paign against America. He was then standing in 
the half light of an old attic, where, tucked away 


‘‘THE STRIKE BREEDERS 


95 


from observation a German scientist, imported 
by Von Rintelen, had taken his quarters that he 
might prepare for future disease raids against 
American workmen in case the plans of Ger- 
many in other directions failed. With Von Lertz 
was Madam Augusta Stephan, chief of Ger- 
many’s women spies in the United States — and 
together they were plotting the death of Harri- 
son Grant and his members of the Criminology 
Club. 

“You must remember,” Von Lertz had just 
said, “the death of any American Secret Service 
man is a distinct victory for Germany ‘The 
Eagle’s Eye,’ I think some of these newspaper 
men have called it — and it has its eye on us too 
frequently. Now, Meyerson, what’s the danger 
of this affair?” 

“Danger?” the old scientist looked up with a 
little smile. “None, that I see. I know enough 
about germs to take care of myself. All I have 
to do is to approach the club from the next roof, 
raise a window an inch or so and inject this. 
That’s all there will be to it. The circulation of 
the air will take care of the rest of the plan.” 

He held up a cotton-plugged tube from which 
Madam Stephan recoiled. Typed on the tube 
were the words : 

“Cholera Bacilli.” 


96 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Heinric von Lertz smiled cynically. 

“Good enough/’ he announced. “But be care- 
ful regarding yourself. We may need you in 
case this ’longshoremen’s plot fails.” The old 
scientist’s head bobbed. 

“I know how to use care/’ he answered. “You 
may count on that.” 

And while Von Lertz accompanied Madam 
Stephan to her apartment, the members of the 
German contingent were gathering for the “im- 
portant conference” in the office of E. V. Gates. 
Franz von Papen and Karl Boy-Ed were al- 
ready there, gathered around the desk with Franz 
von Rintelen and Dr. Heinrich Albert. Only 
two more remained to come — Heinric von Lertz 
and Count Johann von Bemstorff, Ambassador 
from Imperial Germany to the United States of 
America. Franz von Rintelen slid forward in 
his chair. 

“Why is His Excellency so worried?” he 
asked. 

“It’s about the ’longshoremen’s strike,” an- 
swered Dr. Albert once more thumbing his tele- 
gram. “By the way, Rintelen, has there been 
any progress?” 

“Nothing but retrogression,” came the answer 
of the arch-plotter. “From what the papers say 
tonight, there is danger of failure. All the ’long- 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 


97 

shoremen are very loyal and the paid agitators 
that I have sent to work among them have ac- 
complished nothing. They did succeed at one 
time by working the ’longshoremen up over the 
cost of living, but that was met by a prompt 
raise of wages on the part of the shipowners — 
with the result that all our money spent for agita- 
tion in that way, went for nothing. However 


There was a sound at the door. A moment 
later and Heinric von Lertz entered the office. 
Then a sudden movement, a sudden circle of 
bows, a sudden outburst of greetings. Count 
von Bernstorff had arrived. 

There was a moment of silence as he faced his 
assistants. Then slowly he looked toward Rin- 
telen and held forth an evening paper. 

“I am sure you will pardon my transgression 
in your field of endeavor,” he announced, “but 
this news is exceedingly disconcerting.” 

“No more to you than to me, Your Excel- 
lency,” came the smooth answer of Von Rintelen. 
“I appreciate very much your coming tonight — 
and I would appreciate even more any sugges- 
tion that you might be able to make.” 

“How about bribery?” 

“Of the Union officials?” Von Rintelen 
laughed slightly and held up his hands. “I have 


98 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

tried that — with most unfortunate results. 
Through outside sources, I caused an offer of 
$10 a week for every striking ’longshoreman, 
the amount to be paid for five straight weeks. 
The offer was made to Kelly, Butler and O’Con- 
nor, the leaders of the longshoremen. They also 
were made to understand that the money would 
be paid to them — totalling $1,035,000 — and that 
there was no anxiety over what happened to it 
after it went into their hands — ^meaning of course, 
that they could walk away with all of it if they 
so desired, providing they called the strike.” 

‘‘Well?” Bernstorff raised his eyebrows. 

“They reported the matter at once to Secre- 
tary of Labor Wilson that someone was seeking 
to cause disruption in the labor ranks. I think 
that, more than anything else, caused the breach 
that was being made by my agitators, to be closed 
more quickly.” 

Bernstorff took a quick breath. 

“There wasn’t any mention of Germany in all 
this?” 

“Certainly not. The offer came through a 
former ’longshoreman who has carefully con- 
cealed his pro-German leanings. He let them 
think that the whole thing was a matter of re- 
venge on the shipowners and that he had power- 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 99 

ful commercial friends who would be willing to 
pay for that vengeance.” 

Bernstorff breathed easier. 

“Very good,” he announced. “Then that does 
not hurt our cause — ^providing we can find some 
way of creating a strike. And understand,” he 
clenched a hand and faced his colleagues, “this 
strike must go through! It means more to Ger- 
many than a victory at the front! When the 
’longshoremen strike, it means that the ports of 
the East must inevitably be tied up. Not a ship 
will move. Industries will be paralyzed — and 
consequently the AJlies will be deprived of the 
necessities of war. Of course,” he added with a 

quiet smile, “It will be hard on America, but 
»» 

“These idiotic Yankees deserve something like 
that anyway,” growled Captain von Papen. 
However, Bernstorfif had turned his attention to 
Rintelen. 

“You say that agitation has failed. Attempted 
bribery has failed. Then, some other means must 
be attempted.” 

Rintelen was pacing the floor. Suddenly his 
hands clasped. 

“I have it.” he annoxmced. “I know the way! 
There is nothing that angers a man so much as 
depredation against his property. That’s what 


100 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


our spies must commit — and then we must fasten 
the blame on the ’longshoremen. It will create 
a breach that nothing can close.” 

Hurriedly they gathered for conference. And 
while they plotted the stagnation of all Eastern 
America 

Harrison Grant rose from his desk and turned 
with a little sigh to look into the grinning face of 
Pat Hennessy, the Irish caretaker of the club. 

‘‘Guess you’re waiting for me to close up 
shop?” the master detective asked a little wearily. 

“It seems betchune time I’m waitin’ f’r some- 
thin’ like that, Y’r Honor,” answered the grin- 
ning Pat. 

“Everything locked up?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“By golly — ^no!” Pat clasped a hand to his 
head. “If it ain’t me that’s always forgittin’. I 
ain’t fixed the bur-r-rglar trap!” 

Harrison Grant smiled, then stood watching 
while Hennessy moved the firing pins of the 
club’s burglar protection into place at the win- 
dows. One by one, the triggers of the concealed 
revolvers were cocked. Then Hennessy, with a 
little nod, started toward the stairway, Harrison 
Grant following. A moment later they hesitated 
at the door, while Hennessy fished for his keys. 
Then 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 101 

The crashing detonation of a revolver shot — 
from upstairs! Then another and another and 
another 1 The men turned. They rushed up the 
stairway and toward a half open Tvindow, 
through which could be seen the figure of a man, 
writhing in the agonies of death. 

Old he was and bearded, the nostrils covered 
by a germ mask, his hands protected by rubber 
gloves. Beside the convulsing figure lay a 
“pump-gun” or air-injector, and Grant knew the 
contents — deadly germs ! 

Out the window went the master-detective, and 
to the side of the dying man. 

“Careful now!” he ordered. “Search him — 
but look out for cultures and bacteria!” 

A moment later and Harrison Grant was in 
the possession of the thing he sought — a card, 
carelessly left in the old scientist’s pocket in his 
surety of success, a card which gave his name and 
address and which sent Harrison Grant scurry- 
ing forth to pick up Billy Cavanaugh, one of 
his favorite operators, and to hur^ across town 
in search of the laboratory that he felt sure the 
dead bacteriologist had maintained. 

But in the meanwhile, things had gone well 
for Imperial Germany in the office of “E. V. 
Gates.” Only Franz von Rintelen and Heinric 
von Lertz remained. The others had gone to the 


102 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Hohenzollern Club for a last toast to the Kaiser 
and a quiet chat regarding their plans — too quiet 
even for the concealed dictograph of the Crim- 
inology Club to detect. All the work had been 
left for Rintelen and Von Lertz and they were 
making plans hastily. 

Papers were piled high on the desk of Rin- 
telen, papers which formed reports from spies 
everywhere, from the thugs employed by Paul 
Koenig of the Hamburg American line, from 
spies scattered among railroad men, among the 
’longshoremen, among the workmen of practically 
every industry in the country. Rintelen was 
speaking : 

“From what I can gather by the reports of 
Schleindel, the bank spy, shipments of automo- 
biles have been very heavy in the Jersey yards 
recently. Here is information that a lighter con- 
taining 150 of them will cross the river tomorrow 
for shipment to France. I would suggest that 
you choose that as your part of the plan.” 

Von Lertz rose. 

“I know the man who can handle it for me,” 
he said. “I’ll see him at once. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” answered Rintelen. Already 
he was reaching for his coat and hat, even for- 
getting his inevitable disguise in his hurry to 


^‘THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 103 


foment another part of the great scheme against 
New York’s 23,000 ’longshoremen. 

But while they plotted and schemed, Harrison 
Grant and Billy Cavanaugh were making their 
way up the rickety stairway that led to the bac- 
teriologist’s laboratory in the attic of a ram- 
shackle building on Avenue A. A quick twisting 
of the knob and it yielded. Harrison Grant and 
his operative fumbled a moment in the darkness, 
then finding the switch of a table light, began 
their search. 

Desk by desk, drawer by drawer. Papers, 
musty old books on the development of cultures, 
newspaper clippings on the progress of the war, 
letters from Germany and at last 

An ejaculation from Harrison Grant. 

‘‘Just what I thought!” he announced as he 
opened a small memorandum book. “The at- 
tempt against us tonight was an afterthought. 
A sort of a vacation of death, as it were. This 
man was brought to this country from Germany 
for one purpose — the propagation of germ cul- 
tures to be used against American workmen in 
munition factories, steel-mills, mines and other 
industries furnishing supplies to the Allies!” 

“Impossible!” Billy Cavanaugh’s eyes went 
wide with horror. Harrison Grant pointed. 

“There’s the evidence,” he answered as he 


104 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

pointed to the notes of a memorandum book he 
had brought from the desk. “Let’s see what the 
rest of it has to offer.” 

A long silence, except for the crinkling of the 
pages as Harrison Grant read the notations in 
the old book. A long silence then 

“Careful there!” 

“What’s the matter?” Harrison Grant paused 
with a finger in the air. Billy Cavanaugh reached 
forward, and taking the finger in his hand, low- 
ered it. 

“Nothing — only you were about to touch that 
to your lips — and there’s no telling how many 
different kinds of germs are on the pages of that 
book.” 

Harrison Grant smiled. 

“Thanks, Billy,” he said softly, then turned to 
his work again. A moment more and he had risen, 
his eyes wide, excited. 

“Get a telephone, quick!” 

“What’s Up?” 

“A good deal. Wasn’t there something in the 
paper tonight about trouble with the ’longshore- 
men?” 

“Yes — ^but it’s all settled up. That is, the in- 
dications are that it will be settled. Why?” 

“Because it’s far from settled. Look here!” 

A finger pointed to a scrawled line in the old 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 105 

memorandum book. Slowly the words were 
translated: 

“Special notation — germs for longshoremen if 
agitation fails.” 

“And agitation has failed!” Harrison Grant 
said quickly. “Agitation has failed — and that 
means some other attempt against the longshore- 
men. It means ” 

“But the bacteriologist is dead. He won’t 
carry out his orders.” 

“Imperial Germany only begins its real deviltry 
after it’s been blocked!” said Harrison Grant. 
“It’s first and second line of offences have already 
failed in this campaign against the ’longshore- 
men. But you can count on it, Billy, that there’s 
a reserv^e somewhere — and that the blow is going 
to fall and fall quick! Get to a telephone as 
quickly as you can! Notify every member of the 
Criminology Club to seek work at the docks as 
’longshoremen. Tell them to keep their eyes and 
ears open for everything that sounds like Ger- 
man propaganda!” 

“Nothing there that will tell what they’re plan- 
ning?” 

“No — only the indication that they are plan- 
ning something and that they’ll keep on working 
in spite of the death of this man. What they in- 
tend to do is for us to find out — and we’ve got to 


106 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

find out quick! So hurry to the telephone. The 
docks are open day and night now, you know. 
Every member who can spare the sleep must find 
employment tonight. The rest of them will get 
jobs in the morning — we’ll work in day and night 
shifts!” 

But even as Harrison Grant gave the order, 
Heinric von Lertz was laying his plans for the 
first blow, as he talked to a furtive eyed spy in 
the back room of a Hoboken saloon. 

“Here’s the number of the lighter,” he was 
saying. “I just got it from one of Paul Koenig’s 
men. It will leave the Jersey side about 10 
o’clock in the morning.” 

“Got the number of the freight cars?” 

“The ones that contain the autos? Yes.” 

“Better give them to me. I can trace the stuff 
better that way. That lighter might make an- 
other load with something else. Don’t guess it 
makes much difference though — just so we sink 
some stuff.” 

“Except,” said Heinric von Lertz, “if we can 
strike a double blow, it’s all the more to our ad- 
vantage. A hundred and fifty auto ambulances 
laying at the bottom of the river won’t do France 
any good, you know. So sink these cars if you 
possibly can.” 

Von Rintelen also was busy in his scheme of 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 107 

destruction. Far down in the lower end of New 
York, the arch-plotter, his hand covering his face 
as he talked, to prevent recognition by any pos- 
sible roving Secret Service man or detective, his 
eyes moving constantly, his whole, hunted being 
nerved and ready for instant escape, had sought 
out the German foreman of one of the largest 
docks in New York and was giving him orders in 
the name of Imperial Germany. 

“First of all,” he was asking, “who am I — ^in 
case you are caught?” 

“Gates is the only name I know.” 

“You don’t know any address?” 

“No.” 

“Good. Remember — if forced to it, Germany 
expects you to confess and to submit to the pun- 
ishment. But we who direct you must be pro- 
tected ! Understand ?” 

“I am a German reservist,” answered the fore- 
man. 

Rintelen bobbed his head slightly at the asser- 
tion. Then he leaned closer. 

“Are your men experienced in the loading of 
a ship?” 

“No — I’ve been working with practically new 
crews for the last three or four weeks.” 

“None of them are especially sharp — as con- 
cerns the right and wrong way of loading?” 


loa THE EAGLE’S EYE 

“Thej^ all follow my orders. Besides, a num- 
ber of my men are pro-Germans. I imported 
them for emergencies.” 

“Good. Be sure they are all at work in the 
morning. What’s the boat at the docks now?” 

“The Arsulus, Freighter. 2,400 tons.” 

“Big boat.” Bintelen nodded his head with 
satisfaction. “How long would it take to load 
that boat in such a way as to make it capsize?” 

“Twelve hours ’ll do it.” 

“All right, start in the morning. See that 
everything heavy is piled on one side, so that it 
will overturn the minute the hawsers are loosen- 
ed. Do you understand?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“Very well.” Bintelen looked hastily around 
to see that he was not watched, then rose cau- 
tiously. “I shall expect you to be working for 
Imperial Germany in the morning!” 

But when morning came, there were others at 
work also, not for Imperial Germany, but for 
the Stars and Stripes of the United States of 
America — Harrison Grant and the members of 
the Criminology Club, seeking to ferret out the 
trouble they knew to exist about the docks, seek- 
ing to learn what this German contamination 
was which they felt sure was gnawing apart the 


“THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 100 


bonds that held the shipowners and the ’long- 
shoremen in unison. But it was a hard task. 

More than that, the doomed freight shipments 
of automobiles already had reached their lighters 
and were starting down the river, while concealed 
behind the freight cars were two of Rintelen’s 
paid agents, waiting for the time to strike. 

And that time came. Far out into the river 
swung the lighter. The workmen were gathered 
at the other end of the long, traveling track. 
Everything was clear. Hurriedly, the spies ran 
to the end of the freight cars, where they had 
been blocked and snubbed. Quickly the ropes 
were loosed. The brakes were released. A few 
quick movements of a pair of pinch bars and the 
cars had been started toward the river. And in a 
moment more — 

A resounding, crashing splash, which seemed 
to echo from one side of the Hudson to the other. 
The boxcars, with their precious autos, had been 
sent, careening and bobbing, to the bottom of the 
river, and already a spy was on his way to a tele- 
phone to report : 

“Hello, Mr. Gates? Those cars have been ac* 
counted for.” 

“Good!” Franz von Rintelen, alias E. V. 
Gates, hung up the ’phone, then turned to write 
a scrawling letter which read: 


110 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

“Say, you shipowners. Either you give us 
’longshoremen what we want or you’ll get 
worse than what happened when we turned 
over those boxcars. 

The Committee.” 

Into a mailbox went the letter, to reach the 
shipo^raers by special delivery, just as they were 
considering the granting of every demand of the 
’longshoremen. But that letter changed their atti- 
tude entirely. 

“Call up Union headquarters and tell them 
that all negotiations are off,” roared the presi- 
dent. “If those ’longshoremen think they can 
bully us, they’re badly mistaken. We’ll give 
them nothing!” 

The message reached Union headquarters. 
And the reply flashed hack over the wire: 

“We don’t know anything about the sinking 
of your lighter. But if you can’t take our 
word for it ” 

“We have your word — the confession that 
you sank the lighter, signed by the men res- 
ponsible,” was the rejoinder. 

There was only one answer for the men at 
Union Headquarters to make, and they made it. 

“Then our only reply must come in the form 
of a strike. We are sorry.” 

Then, throughout the city the word radiated, 


‘‘THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 111 


the word that the final breach had been reached 
between the longshoremen and the shipowners 
that a strike had been called and that within an- 
other tw^enty-four hours, the docks of the east 
would be silent, the trucks motionless, industry 
paralyzed! In a private room of the Hohenzol- 
lern Club, Von Rintelen, Albert von Papen and 
Boy-Ed received the information and rose to 
drink a toast to the success of the strike. Down 
at the docks, Harrison Grant paled at the news, 
then sent his men scurrying about in a last effort 
to gain some information that would give him a 
positive clue to work on. But there was none. 

And in her way, Dixie Mason also was work- 
ing, for slie had met Heinric von Lertz and had 
gone with him to the Ten Mile House, a fast 
roadhouse just outside the city where she might 
ply him with wine and seek to gain the secrets 
that she knew he carried concealed about him. 

At Union Headquarters, arrangements were 
being made for the strike meeting, while other 
officials W'Cre making a last effort to reach the 
shipowners and to seek to prove to them that the 
depredation committed against them had not 
been done by longshoremen. But the task was 
almost hopeless. 

Besides, Imperial Germany still lurked in the 
shadows with its greatest blow still unstruck, the 


112 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

blow that would cost the shipowners millions of 
dollars, that it hoped would end forever any con- 
ciliatory relations between the shipowners and 
’longshoremen. And when that end came — it 
meant the stagnation of the industry of all East- 
ern America! 


Chapter VI 


THE PLOT AGAINST ORGANIZED LABOR 

As the day wore on members of the Crim- 
inology Club, in their assumed capacity of dock 
hands, heard with irritating frequency the an- 
nouncement of the strike meeting called for that 
night. The sudden change of attitude of the 
shipowners toward the longshoremen was start- 
ling and puzzling. Harrison Grant confessed his 
bewilderment to himself even as he tried to dispel 
it by joining the small groups that gathered here 
and there, listening for the meager information 
their conversation contained. The talk was 
mostly of an argumentative nature, discussion 
rising magically over the soaring cost of living, 
their long hours, and the wrongs, fancied or other- 
wise, heaped upon them by the shipowners. In 
each little group, Grant noticed, when excite- 
ment lagged or one more cool-headed than the 
rest counselled less haste and more caution, less 
hot-headed talk and more cool thought, that at 
least one of the group was ready to stir them up 
113 


114 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


into argument again. But in these troublesome 
agitators, neither Grant nor his confreres could 
recognize any of the paid agents of the German 
government known to them. 

The sinking of the lighter had become the main 
topic of conversation. During the noon hour ex- 
citement and agitation ran high. The ’longshore- 
men resented being accused of sinking the lighter. 
Vehemently group after group disclaimed any 
such guilt. And while one group, hot in its de- 
nials, still seemed to believe that the shipowners 
would listen to their denials of guilt, time and 
again Grant heard references to the sinking of 
the lighter as though it had been the work of the 
’longshoremen and as such was a commendable 
act in view of the wrongs done them. These agita- 
tors he knew were a foreign element. 

The air was permeated with the strike fever, 
and the fever was fed by remarks, actions, hints, 
constantly passing among the workmen but none 
of them traceable to men of known German lean- 
ings. Passing Billy Cavanaugh, Grant signalled 
to him to stop a moment, and, while he mopped 
his perspiring forehead, confided his doubts to 
him. 

“Strike meeting tonight and they don’t know 
the real reason for their strike! And we’ve got 
to find out for ’em and put a stop to it today.” 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 11^ 

Billy stared at him hopelessly. “What are you 
going to do? Germany is behind this but she is 
hiding so tight we can’t find her.” The Crim- 
inology Club could see hidden in this wild maze 
of misunderstanding the hands of Von Rintelen, 
Von Bernstorff, Albert, Von Papen, Boy-Ed and 
Von Lertz as the ’longshoremen could not; they 
could see the hands, but could not shackle them. 

The German dock foreman, upon whom Von 
Rintelen had called the night before, was rush- 
ing his inexperienced crew. The work of load- 
ing the Arsulus had gone forward with a rush. 
Burly laborers, ignorant of the crime in which 
they were being used as tools, loaded crates and 
boxes of produce into the hold of the Arsulus 
Reinforced here and there by men with whom the 
foreman was familiar, and who were well aware 
of their share in the crime, driven and roared and 
cursed at by the foreman, the laborers bent to 
their task. And the cargo of the Arsulus piled 
high against the hold on the water-side of the 
vessel. Her hawsers were pulling at their moor- 
ings. She creaked and rattled with the wash of 
the current, and listed slightly in her slip. But 
in the seething maelstrom of activity these things 
passed unnoticed. 

Toward the end of the afternoon, Grant picked 
up the word that the men at Union Plead- 


116 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

quarters had taken up the question of a strike 
with the shipowners once more. That they were 
seeking to convince them that there should be one 
more conference before the strike was called. 
And at last word came that the shipowners had 
consented to their pleas and would confer with 
them. 

The quitting bell clanged and the men of the 
day shift dropped their trucks. For a brief space 
comparative quiet reigned where all had been 
noise, clatter, ear-sphtting crashes, combined 
with shouts of men in a fever heat of excitement. 

Grant, Cavanaugh, Sisson and Stewart of the 
Criminology Club joined the hurrying ranks and 
wedged themselves into the hall where the Union 
meetings were held, amid a crowd of perspiring, 
cursing, excited ’longshoremen. 

The chairman of the Shipowners Committee 
was speaking. As his voice was raised a silence 
fell upon the crowd. 

“Men, we want to be fair. You say that the 
’longshoremen did not sink our lighter. We 
will grant that there may be some mistake here. 
We received your letter of last night and acted 
as we saw best. Your chairman and others here 
assure us that they sent no letter; if this is the case 
we Vidll listen to you. Now talk quickly. State 
your demands.” 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 117 

Instantly the hall was a bedlam of noise. Men 
shouted, trying to make themselves heard. Grant 
saw the men who had been foremost in spreading 
agitation among the groups on the docks now 
striving to add to the confusion and clamor by 
hurling epithets at the Shipowners Committee 
and urging the men at their sides to increase 
their demands. 

Disgusted, and seeing no solutions here to the 
problem that absorbed their minds. Grant sig-* 
nailed to Cavanaugh. 

‘‘Get Stewart and Sisson and get out of here. 
We’ll get back to the docks. This is likely to last 
all night and then not amount to anything.” 

Grant slipped out hurriedly, knowing that the 
others would follow him. Ahead of him slouched 
two men. As he passed, one stopped to scratch 
a match against the building. It’s flare lighted 
a face strongly Teutonic, and as the match died 
down and was tossed away Grant slowed up in 
the darkness and strained his ear to catch their 
conversation. 

They spoke in German. “We did good work 
at our dock today.” Out of the darkness on the 
cool night air the words came clearly, though 
gutturally, to Grant’s ears. 

“Yes? What kind?” 

“Loading cargo. Dock Fourteen.” 


118 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


They passed out of earshot. A moment later 
Grant heard the quick steps of Cavanaugh and 
the other two operatives, and soon they were 
swinging along to the dock. That there had 
been a note of pride or at least boastfulness in 
the voice of the man he had heard speaking by 
the wall. Grant was not slow to discern. To see 
that a man of his type, whom Grant classed with 
the agitators of the day on the docks, would not 
feel any great pride over the loading of a ship’s 
cargo, did not take great powers of discernment. 
Grant with a mind trained to pick up the faint- 
est clue leaped to the conclusion that here was a 
thread that led to something which could be 
grasped. Evidently something had taken place 
that day on the dock which the Criminology Club 
had overlooked. 

“Dock Fourteen” he announced briefly to the 
others and silently they followed him. The great 
hulk of the Arsulus reared itself into the darkness 
of the night above the brightly lighted dock. 

“Wait here unless I call,” said Grant. He 
scrambled aboard and peered down the hatchway. 
His eyes swept the dark interior of the hold. One 
side was black, but in the side toward the water 
piles upon piles of packing boxes, baskets and 
clean-crated produce showed dimly. 

A voice at his elbow startled him. 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 


119 


‘'Anything wrong here?” To Grant the figure 
of the dock foreman, shock-headed, heavy- jawed, 
with heavy arms swinging loosely, was typically 
bestial. With a quick sense of distaste he 
straightened. 

“Wrong? Somewhat! Unless this is a new 
style of loading a vessel. How long since they 
have been loading the cargo on one side? Looks 
like incompetence or — ” but the foreman seemed 
indisposed to listen to Grant’s ideas on the mat- 
ter, for a second later Grant had crumpled under 
his heavy fist and was sliding down the steep 
stairway. 

The foreman leaned forward and surveyed the 
three figures of the Criminology Club men on 
the dock. Picking up a balehook he laid it within 
easy reach, then cupping his hands about his 
mouth he called in a somewhat subdued but clear- 
ly audible voice, “Help. Help!” 

He saw the three men leap forward to the 
ship’s side. He fiattened himself against a pile 
of boxes. A moment more and the men had 
passed him and were clambering down the hatch. 
As the last one disappeared he sprang to the 
hatchway and battened it. Grant, Cavanaugh, 
Stewart and Sisson were prisoners. 

The German dock foreman uttered a shrill 


120 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

whistle. It was answered in a moment and a 
figure joined him hurriedly. 

“Wait until I’m off the dock and safe. Then 
cut the hawsers” It was the foreman who spoke 
and the other nodded. His huge figure disap- 
peared down the length of a warehouse. The 
man he had left reached for an axe which lay on 
a pile of boxes. There was no sound except a 
straining and creaking as he hacked at the haw- 
sers of the Arsulus, Grant and his men inside 
the hatchway were beating at the door in an ef- 
fort to break it open. Suddenly they felt the 
movement of the vessel as it listed sharply. They 
heard the clattering and crashing of trucks, 
benches and tools falling from their places sliding 
over the floor of the hold. The vessel trembled 
as the last hawser parted and with a sudden lurch 
the Arsulus capsized, carrying with her to what 
seemed certain death the four members of the 
Criminology Club. 

Perhaps to death, but a death they would fight 
to the last ! Boxes and bales tumbled and crashed 
about. A porthole on the underside burst under 
the pressure of water and a geyserlike stream 
spouted up. The men knew that the water w^as 
flowing in, that it was only a matter of a short 
time before the vessel would be submerged and 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 121 

that to the chill shadows of the hold would be 
added the shadow of death I Scrambling from 
one box to another they eluded the ever-rising 
wave of water. At last they had reached the high- 
est point of vantage they could find. And for a 
short time at least the waters seemed at a stand- 
still. Above them was the cold steel side of the 
vessel. Below them the churn and rush of water. 

While Harrison Grant and his friends fought 
for their lives in the hold of the wrecked Arsulus, 
the conference at the Headquarters of the Union 
proceeded. Order was being formulated out of 
chaos, the ’longshoremen’s demands were being 
gathered into shape, and it seemed that a settle- 
ment agreeable to all was about to be reached. 
Suddenly the telephone on the table jangled. 
One of the Union officials answered it, then 
turned it over to the Chairman of the Shipowners 
Committee. 

“It’s for you.” 

There was a moment’s silence while he fumbled 
with the receiver, his greeting, and then another 
silence while the voice of the speaker at the other 
end of the line came to their ears in squeaky ac- 
cents. 

As they watched him, the Chairman’s face 
hardened. 

“Here, say that over again. No! Well they’ve 


122 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

reached the limit. This means the end.” The 
receiver banged into its socket and the chairman 
faced the group of tense men at the table. 

“Gentlemen, the Arsulus has just been sunk at 
its dock. You were warned that if another de- 
predation occurred we would lock you out whe- 
ther you struck or not.” His fist crashed to the 
table. “That ship was loaded so it would cap- 
size. A million dollars worth of property has 
been destroyed. You will see that we can take 
no other action. Negotiations are at an end. 
We will fight you now to the finish. I must bid 
you good evening.” Calmly and coldly he 
threaded his way through the crowds of ’long- 
shoremen into whose minds the greatness of this 
new blow, just struck, was beginning to pene- 
trate. 

There was a sudden burst of sound as men 
tried to make themselves heard, seeking for recog- 
nition, yelling, shouting. Again and again the 
gavel crashed to the table for order. Finally, re- 
luctantly it came. 

The president of the ’Longshoremen’s Union 
looked down at the upturned faces of his men. 

“Boys, this meeting is not of our choice. 
Strange things have happened. We must re- 
member, however, in our excitement and resent- 
ment that in the past the shipowners have treated 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 123 

us with a large measure of fairness. Now we 
must face these new problems. The Chairman 
of the shipowners’ committee has just announced 
to us that they will refuse to treat with us ” 

“Then let’s strike. Give them their answer. 
Strike!” 

It w’as the German dock foreman who had 
leaped to his feet and was striding up and down 
the aisle in defiance of the gavel beating for 
order. One after another the ’longshoremen 
joined in his cry, hypnotized by his apparent 
earnestness, eager to follow his evident leader- 
ship. 

“Strike, Strike! We’ll bring these shipowners 
to their senses. What have they done for us?” 

In the overturned hulk of the Arsulus, still 
fighting the death that seemed imminent, the 
members of the Criminology Club racked their 
brains for a means of escape from the waters 
threatening to engulf them. 

Grant reached out a hand in the darkness and 
encountered a clenched fist. “Cavanaugh, is that 
you?” 

“Yes,” the reply bordered on a gasp. 

“Some kind of crating here. I’ve got a bale- 
hook I picked up somewhere.” 

“A balehook ? Give it to me.” 

Cavanaugh handed the implement to Grant, 


124 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


who dragged himself to the pinnacle of the debris 
and began a systematic tapping on the steel hull 
of the vessel with the handle of the heavy hook. 

In a moment the operatives deciphered the 
message he was sending in Morse Code. 

“Send help! Send help!” he signalled over 
and over, and when his arm was about to fail, 
Cavanaugh scrambled to his side and took up the 
tapping. How long they waited they could not 
tell. Time dragged and the waters began to rise 
again while the splashing about of floating boxes, 
drifting among the debris drowned out the out- 
side noises. Grant, reaching up with the bale- 
hook to begin his signalling once more was 
startled to see a tiny spot of red glowing above 
his head in the darkness. A moment more and 
the spot changed to white and he lurched side- 
ways as a hissing drop of molten steel sung past 
his ear and dropped into the water with a burst 
of steam. 

A greenish flame showed through the steel, the 
flame of an acetylene torch, lighting the watery, 
floating hold like a glint of summer lightning. 
And as they watched it, the hole grew and grew. 
At last a mass of steel dropped into the water 
and through the widened hole. Grant caught a 
glimpse of the stars twinkling in the sky. A 
shadow fell across the opening and they heard a 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 125 

voice bellowing to them above the sound of the 
water. 

“Who’s there?” 

“Harrison Grant, Cavanaugh, Stewart, Sis- 
son!” Four mascuUne voices shouted the neces- 
sary information. 

“Oh, all right, gentlemen! Hold tight until 
the edges have cooled. Just a minute now.” 

Five minutes later the four members of the 
Criminology Club, bruised and battered, wet and 
ragged, stood upright on the hull of the capsized 
vessel, under the bright stars, with the cool breath 
of the river blowing into their grateful nostrils. 
The lights from the docks glinted on the buttons 
and stars which adorned the coats of their res- 
cuers. Grant leaned forward and peered into 
the face of one of the patrolmen. 

“Leary! So you’re the one who does the Des- 
perate Desmond act and rescues gentlemen in 
distress?” 

“Yes Mr. Grant. And do you feel like an- 
swering any questions?” 

“If they are necessary.” 

“They’re necessary all right. If you’ll just 
come over here on the dock, please. Muldoon’s 
got a prisoner. Saw him running away from the 
dock here and tripped him up. He’ll confess, all 
right.” 


126 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Grant followed the patrolman into the ware- 
house. Muldoon clutched a cringing form. 
“That’s no one I know, Muldoon. He is prob- 
ably a confederate.” 

“He said he did it all, Mr. Grant.” 

“A favorite tale with these German spies, Mul- 
doon. Here you!” He grasped the spy sud- 
denly. “I want you to tell the truth and to tell 
it quick. Where’s the foreman of this dock?” 

The spy swallowed with evident effort, and 
then gasped out: 

“Gone to a labor meeting.” 

“He gave you orders to cut those hawsers 
didn’t he?” 

The spy’s eyes wavered, and then, held by 
Grant’s glance, came back: 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

The spy shrugged his shoulders. “He had 
orders to sink the ship.” 

“From whom?” 

“I don’t know. He wanted them to think the 
’longshoremen did it.” 

“And bring about a strike? Very simple. Now 
we’ll go over to the labor meeting and you can 
tell the people you see there this same little 
story.” 

The spy with a sudden jerk tried to free him- 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 127 

self, but Muldoon’s burly fist clenched on his 
shoulder. 

The longshoremen’s meeting had reached its 
climax, and now a quiet had fallen. Human 
nature cannot keep itself at a high pitch of ex- 
citement indefinitely. The reaction had come. 
Silence reigned as Grant and his companions, 
and the two policemen, leading the ashy-faced 
prisoner, entered the hall. The voice of the clerk 
was raised as they took places against the back 
waU of the room. 

“And now that the speeches have been finished, 
it is moved and seconded that a vote shall be 
taken to determine whether a general strike be 
called by the ’longshoreman against the ship- 
owners of ” 

A shout from Grant brushed the droning voice 
of the clerk aside. 

“Stop! No vote must be taken until this man 
tells his story.” 

As though stirred by a giant hand, the as- 
semblage recoiled. Men rose from their seats to 
see the person whose temerity thus interrupted 
the vote of their Union. Down the aisle the Ger- 
man dock foreman, whose vociferousness of a 
short time before had helped to keep the even- 
ing in an uproar, passed a hand over his face and 
slid into his seat again. 


12S 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

With dragging feet the spy was roughly 
shoved down the aisle by the two policemen, fol- 
lowed by Grant. They climbed to the platform 
and faced the listening mass of men. 

For a moment Grant looked down on them in 
silence. Then he spoke: 

“You men are laboring under a delusion. I 
am here to prove it to you, and this — gentleman,” 
he ironically waved a hand toward the spy, “will 
help me.” He turned to the spy. “Where is 
the man who gave you orders to turn that boat 
over? Remember, I know who he is. I want you 
to tell them.” 

The prisoner glanced over the audience fear- 
fully. He lifted a limp hand and pointed. 

“There!” 

Halfway down the hall the huge form of the 
dock foreman rose and started with a rush 
toward the door. But his path was blocked. 
Hands shot out to seize his and pinion them, 
struggling, to his sides. Fighting and cursing 
they carried him to the platform and faced him 
toward the spy. 

Ten minutes of excited talking followed, hot 
with denials and accusations bandied between 
the foreman and the spy. Suddenly the dock 
foreman turned to his audience. 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 129 

He’s right! I told him to cut the hawsers to 
sink the vessel!” 

The president of the ’Longshoremen’s Union 
broke into the silence that followed the confes- 
sion. 

“Phone the shipowners at once!” he called to 
his secretary. 

The dock foreman was talking again. 

“It was the intention to fasten the blame for 
the depredation on the ’longshoremen. We knew 
if that ship was turned over nothing could stop 
a strike. And we want a strike.” 

“Who hired you?” Grant cut in sharply. 

“A man named Gates.” 

“First name?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Address?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“No I don’t suppose so.” Harrison Grant 
smiled sarcastically. It was not the first time 
that he had questioned a German spy — only to 
find out that he knew nothing and that he was 
willing to confess and accept blame that the 
liigher powers of Imperial Germany might con- 
tinue their work of devastation and strife. 

“All right. You’ve told enough. Now Mr. 
President, you undoubtedly have some action to 


130 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

take.” Grant bowed to the president of the Union 
and stepped down from the platform. 

The president took the floor. Relief was writ- 
ten large on his smiling countenance. 

“Men, we must declare ourselves. This man 
has confessed that an effort has been made to 
make us allies of Germany in an attempt to tie 
up shipping and paralyze American industries. 
Do you consent to be tools of Imperial Germany 
or do you prefer to be free Americans?” 

In a moment the hall resounded with shouts. 

“Americans ! Americans !” 

The president turned as his secretary touched 
him on the elbow. He took a slip of paper hand- 
ed him and raised his hand for silence. 

“The shipowners announce that because of the 
removal of this very serious charge against you, 
they are willing to grant the demands of the 
’longshoremen!” 

It was as though a whirlwind had struck a 
forest. The mass of men went wild. Shouts re- 
sounded while men tossed their hats into the air, 
slapped each other on the back, wrung each 
other’s hands. Grant watched them for a few 
moments, smiling. Another blow by Germany 
had been averted. It was worth the horror and 
danger of the last hour. His work for the night 
was over. He turned to go. 


PLOT AGAINST LABOR 13 l 

With thoughts free from the ’longshoremen 
and their difficulties settled, his mind reverted to 
the subject nearest his heart, and one which even 
in moments of greatest danger and suspense or 
wildest excitement, he was ever conscious of. 
Dixie Mason’s dark eyes seemed to look wist- 
fully at him from the darkness. 

Dixie’s little jaunt to the Ten Mile House 
with Von Lertz had almost proved highly worth 
the necessity of enduring his attentions for 
several hours. They had danced and dined and 
danced again, and Von Lertz had ordered many 
drinks. As he imbibed drink after drink he be- 
came with each one a little less careful, a shade 
more loquacious. But he dropped no word of 
proceedings that she recognized as of any im- 
portance. Dixie grew a little discouraged and 
tired as the time passed. She was about to sug- 
gest the necessity of returning to the city when 
a door slammed noisily. In a state of nervous 
tension, Dixie started, upsetting the small glass 
of cordial that had been served to her. The 
bright colored liquid ran in a quick stream toward 
the edge of the table, toward her. Dixie drew 
back. 

“Wipe it up quick! I don’t want it to get on 
me!” 

There was no waiter near. Von Lertz whipped 


132 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


out a clean handkerchief from his pocket. Un- 
noticed by him a small leather-colored booklet 
slipped from his pocket with the handkerchief 
and dropped to the floor. Dixie’s quick eyes saw 
it and while she thanked Von Lertz with a grati- 
tude that, under different circumstances, he 
would have thought somewhat profuse for the 
service rendered, Dixie slipped her foot over 
the little book. 

The slamming door had admitted two new- 
comers, a man and a girl. The girl Dixie recog- 
nized at once as a member of the Secret Service 
and catching her eye, she signalled to her to come 
over. 

Von Lertz, ever on the alert for new conquests, 
lost no time in asking the girl to dance with him. 
Dixie had known this would happen. As the girl 
and Von Lertz circled away from the table, she 
excused herself to the girl’s escort, leaned over, 
picked up the little note-book and left the room. 
A moment later in the dressing-room she started 
wide-eyed and with quickening breath at a report 
in which were jotted down items, all planning 
death and destruction and horror of a vastness 
beyond comprehension. 


Chapter VII 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 

No one passing with the crowds that thronged 
Fifth Avenue at all hours would have singled 
out the great stone house that stood flush with 
the sidewalk near Fifty-second Street. Its great 
doors with their outer gates of iron bars were 
flanked on each side by anemic box trees which 
bravely struggled for a living amid the dust and 
grime of the city. Its closely curtained win- 
dows presented an impression of cold aloofness. 
To the passerby there was nothing to indicate 
that its air of ancient respectability was but as-* 
sumed. It’s door swung into an entrance hall 
whose gloomy grandeur was lightened by the 
subdued light of wall brackets with colored 
shades. Broad stairs led to the upper floors. At 
one side of the hall beautifully panelled oak doors 
opened into a long room, whose wall, hung with 
tapestry and great paintings, and giant fireplace 
gave to the interior an air of baronial splendor. 

Amid this quiet luxury and display of royal 
133 


134 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


grandeur the German government had estab- 
lislied its headquarters for the system of espion- 
age it had introduced into a peaceful country. 
This room was the meeting place of the chief 
agents of the German government. To it came 
Von Lertz of the susceptible heart, most recently 
lost to Dixie Mason; here came Boy-Ed and 
V on Papen, Von Rintelen of many disguises and 
Von Bernstorff, the German Ambassador, for 
conferences with Dr. Albert, paymaster for the 
Kaiser’s spy army in America. And that their 
movements might be directed with greatest 
secrecy and expediency wireless messages were 
received here direct from Nauen, Germany, 
through the huge antennae which could be 
stretched upward from the chimney of the house 
and through the great detectors concealed behind 
the massive oil paintings adorning the walls. 

The room was quiet save for the continuous 
shudle of papers slipping and sliding into neat 
piles under the quick hands of Dr. Albert and 
the crackhng of the log in the fireplace, now al- 
most smoldering into ashes. He laid the reports 
from spies in all parts of the country into one 
pile. The most important of these were carried 
in the brown portfolio which lay on the table and 
which he kept continually in his possession. 

Now he thrust into it a report from Captain 


Portfolio secured from Dr. Albert containing documents relating to official German intrigue 



I 



THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 135 

Franz von Papen, suggesting that a shipment of 
liquid chlorine which had been ordered by the 
Allies be stopped by blowing up the factories in 
which it was being manufactured. Thus the 
Germans would be given a new advantage in the 
field by an absolute monopoly of this gas. This 
report was followed by another from the same 
source calling the doctor’s attention to the possi- 
bility of obtaining the patents of the Wright 
aeroplane by trickery, cheating the Wright 
brothers out of the result of years of labor, and 
cornering the aeroplane market in America. A 
quietly personal letter from Von Rintelen advis- 
ing him of the various aliases and describing the 
disguises under which he intended to travel for 
the next few weeks; documents regarding the 
Embargo Conference, with its membership of 
misguided Americans, conceived and designed to 
bring political influence to bear upon the muni- 
tions industry, thus enabling Germany to obtain 
all the arms it needed and the Allies none; let- 
ters and reports on crop conditions, telegrams 
suggesting means by which Germany could 
handle the various U-boat controversies in a way 
to blind the Administration and yet commit mur- 
der on the high seas, plans for buying news- 
papers and the dissemination of spy propaganda 
— prospectuses, plans and other matters of im- 


136 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


portance which came daily to the hands of this 
mysterious, seemingly all-seeing financial agent 
of the German Government, were slipped into the 
brown portfolio. 

He started suddenly as the panelled doors 
creaked open to admit a visitor. His piercing 
eyes turned to a person advancing toward him 
jauntily, but with an air of familiarity that was 
disarming. In a moment the look of alarm on; 
Albert’s face changed to one of relief as he recog- 
nized his visitor and nodded curtly. 

“Ah Von Rintelen, glad to see you. In the 
future kindly have yourself announced.” 

“As what? Would it make it any easier to 
have Smith, or Gates or Levinsky or some such 
personage announced? Would it make this place 
easier of access to me?” Von Rintelen swung 
his cane over the back of a chair, hung his hat 
over the same piece of furniture and stood roll- 
ing his immaculate chamois gloves from his hands. 
This done, with a care and precision that seemed 
to make each movement a ceremony, he removed 
the brown Van Dyke beard that had adorned his 
countenance, and stood revealed to his confrere 
in his true personage. Stepping to Albert’s side 
he said in lowered tones: 

“You say you are glad to see me; you may feel 
differently when I tell you the news I bring.” 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 137 

Albert turned quickly. 

“Good or bad?” 

“Bad,” answered Rintelen. He reached into 
his pocket and brought out a slip of paper, un- 
folding it as he held it for Albert to read. 

Dr. Albert glanced over it, then frowned, in- 
quiringly. 

“Well, what of this? Is it not right that Ger- 
many should place bombs on ships leaving Ameri- 
can ports? I see here a list of ten or twelve 
sugar vessels which are now at sea, with bombs 
in their cargoes due to explode some time today. 
What of that? These are orders being carried 
out.” 

Von Rintelen pointed. 

“Read the last line again carefully, my friend. 
The Cragside is listed there and — ^the Cragside is 
still in port!” 

For a moment of tense silence the plotters 
stared at each other, consternation growing in 
the expression Albert bent upon Rintelen. 

“What! And there are bombs in the Crag- 
side's hold?” 

Von Rintelen nodded. “Five of them — sewed 
into sugar sacks. They are due to explode any 
time now.” 

Dr. Albert paced the floor, hands folded be- 


138 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

hind him, a frown deepening the lines of his face. 
He stopped and looked at Von Rintelen. 

‘‘And that means that the Cragside will burn 
at her dock ” 

Von Rintelen nodded again. “Naturally.” 

“And there will be an investigation. More of 
these infernal American reporters asking ques- 
tions and seeking to find the causes of things. 
More Secret Service men running about, and 
with their keen perception, certain to find these 
things we wished concealed! Who’s mistake is 
this?” Dr. Albert glared at Von Rintelen, an- 
noyance fast growing into anger as the danger of 
the situation took hold of him. 

Von Rintelen, shrugged his shoulders. 

“No one’s mistake. The agents were told to 
put bombs aboard sugar ships to destroy as many 
sugar cargoes as possible. They obeyed orders. 
The Cragside sailed three days ago when the 
other ships left port. Something went wrong, 
she returned for repairs, and is now in port as I 
have just told you. And the bomb in her hold is 
due to explode today.” 

Albert stared at Von Rintelen fiercely. The 
thoughts which struggled for words but were 
suppressed showed in his face at the nipping in 
the bud of this well-planned plot. He took 
refuge in a hard-fought silence, for Franz Von 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 139 


Rintelen, special emissary and arch-plotter, owed 
no recognition to Dr. Heinrich Albert. Von 
Rintelen had come to America with a fund of 
fifty millions of dollars at his disposal and was 
accountable to only one for the success or failures 
which followed the use of the money for death 
and destruction and that man was — the Kaiser. 

Von Rintelen picked up the beard which had 
disguised his features and crossing to a low hung 
French mirror, carefully adjusted it. Picking 
up his hat and cane and gloves, he turned to 
Albert. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Mistakes will occur, you 
know. Till we meet again,” he bowed jauntily 
and in a moment the panelled doors closed be- 
hind him and the great iron barred doors of the 
front entrance clanged, marking his exit to 
Fifth Avenue. He was quickly lost in the hurry- 
ing crowds outside. 

Albert walked to the fireplace and stared 
gloomily into its fast dying embers. “A happy 
day for Germany when he returns home,” he 
muttered moodily. “Mistakes, mistakes, nothing 
but mistakes.” 

The past twelve hours had been filled with 
puzzling anxiety for Dixie Mason. Since the 
moment she had read the scribbled page from the 
notebook of Heinric von Lertz in the dressing 


140 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


room of the Ten Mile Mouse, her efforts had been 
spent on solving the mystery of its meaning, for 
all it said, though Dixie was not at all misled by 
its briefness into confusing brevity with inno- 


cence, was this: 

Report for Von Lertz. 

Fire bombs manufactured 400 

Fire bombs delivered to agents for com- 
ing use 72 


Balance 328 


That was all. Where the bombs had been 
placed, when they would explode, where it was 
intended others should be placed could not be 
told. It had been with difficulty that Dixie in 
her preoccupation had retained Von Lertz’s at- 
tention on the ride home from the Ten Mile 
House the night before. Her mind had been a 
seething mass of conjectures and forebodings. 
And with them had been linked her knowledge 
of the necessity for occupying Von Lertz’s atten- 
tion so that he would not discover the loss of the 
report book. In this she had been successful, and 
when he at last deposited her ^ at the door of her 
apartment, it was with a feeling of relief that 
she bid him good night. 

Dixie in the quiet of her room chided herself 
for not being able to make more of this report. 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 141 

She told herself that she had no right to be one 
of the Secret Service if she could do no better 
than this, but the information was meager — 
there was nothing to work on. Her smooth fore- 
head was furrowed by a frown of anxiety. For 
the fiftieth time she read the report and then she 
shook her head. 

“No use,” she mused. “There’s only one thing 
for me to do with this and that is send it to Har- 
rison Grant without his knowing who it came 
from. He can start an investigation.” She 
folded the page torn from the book and slipped 
it into an envelope. Then in a painfully dis- 
guised handwriting she directed it to Harrison 
Grant, at the Criminology Club. She held up 
the envelope and surveyed the writing. “He 
doesn’t know my writing, but if he did he would 
never guess this was mine. Mamette!” she 
called sharply. 

In a moment the curtain of her room was 
parted and a grinning black face looked in on 
her. Mamette had been Dixie’s maid for years ; 
in spite of her self -selected name smacking as she 
thought, of all that was French and gay and 
fashionable, she was pure African. 

“Mamette,” Dixie repeated, “Take this letter 
down to the telegraph office in the next block and 


142 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


have a messenger deliver it at once. Be sure 
not to say who is sending it. Remember!” 

“Yas’m!” Mamette’s dark hand grasped the 
envelope which was startingly white by contrast, 
and in a few minutes Dixie heard the door of 
the apartment slam and knew that the report 
which she rightfully guessed savored of intrigue 
boding ill for the peace of the land she served, 
was on its way to Harrison Grant. 

It reached him a half hour later by messenger, 
at his office. 

It was Jimmy McAdams, shock haired, and 
dreamy eyed, who ambled in and presented him 
with the message, and while he waited to see 
whether Grant wished to send an answer, Jimmy 
made himself comfortable in the depths of a lea- 
ther chair with the nickel novel which never left 
him. Grant frowned over the brief report which 
had been the cause of Dixie Mason’s dilemma. A 
triumphant chuckle from Jimmy aroused him. 
But the chuckle was merely induced by the suc- 
cessful effort of Old King Brady to capture the 
last of the counterfeiters as set forth between the 
lurid covers of Jimmy’s nickel thriller. Grant’s 
glance rested on him with tolerant amusement. 

“Keep on reading that stuff, Jimmy, and you’ll 
be a detective before you know it.” 

Jimmy pulled himself into his present sur- 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 143 

roundings with obvious effort. The eyes that 
met Grant’s were still somewhat dreamy. 

“What? Aw gee, Mr. Grant. I wish I was 
a detective! I bet I could be one.” 

“And yet you don’t know where this myster- 
ious communication you just brought me came 
from?” 

“Aw gee! Mr. Grant. How’d I know it was 
mysterious? I carry so many messages. How 
could I guess this one was goin’ to be something 
different. Anyway that ain’t got nothin’ to do 
with the kind of detectin’ I want to do. I want 
to be ” 

“Look here Jimmy,” Grant had risen and 
crossed over to the boy, “Why don’t you stop 
reading these nickel thrillers and put some of 
that excess energy into the Boy Scouts?” 

“WeU, Mr. Grant, that ain’t a bad idea. They 
been tryin’ to get me to join. But I want to be 
a detective.” 

Just how close he was to becoming a detective 
Jimmy did not know. A few moments later he 
left the Club and betook himself to the “L” sta- 
tion for the train that would take him back to 
his office. 

.Ti mm y was followed into the car by a well- 
dressed, dark man of somewhat foreign appear- 
ance who carried a brown portfolio. There was 


144 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


nothing about him to arouse interest, but because 
he was the only other person in the car Jimmy 
stared at him with a bored curiosity which would 
have been disconcerting had the object of it not 
been in a somewhat drowsy state. Jimmy 
watched his- head nod, fall forward on his chest, 
and jerked back only to allow it to go through 
the same performance again. It was very in- 
teresting to Jimmy, and he was somewhat sorry 
when the man jumped to his feet in confusion as 
the guard called a station and hurried out to 
the platform. As the train started Jimmy 
noticed the brown portfolio lying on the seat 
where the man had left it. He caught it up and 
thrust his head out of the window. 

‘‘Hey, hey, mister! You left your valise!” 
Portfolios, valises — ^they were all the same to 
Jimmy, the untraveUed. 

But the “L” train was pulling out. Behind, 
on the platform Jimmy could see the man wav- 
ing his arms and gesticulating wildly. 

“Well you shouldn’t have left it,” Jimmy com- 
mented pliilosophically to no one in particular, 
and immediately unbuckled the strap that held 
the case closed. He glanced inside. For a 
moment disappointment was written on his fea- 
tures, and then his eyes widened. 

“Papers! German papers! Gosh I wonder if 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 145 . 

he’s a spy!” Jimmy hesitated and hurried out of 
the car. 

He was strangely deaf to the shouts of the 
station guard, as he rushed down the elevator 
steps, the newsdealer who endeavored to stop him 
at the guard’s earnest entreaties, enforced pro- 
fanities, presented no obstacle at all. A police- 
man, seeing the commotion, did his best to 
slacken the pace Jimmy had set for himself but 
could do nothing but follow the nimble-footed 
messenger. 

Fifteen minutes later Jimmy dashed past Pat 
Hennessy at the door of the Criminology Club 
and threw himself, panting and wild-eyed at 
Harrison Grant. 

"‘Mr. Grant !” he gasped. “Here’s a whole valise 
full of German spies — I mean German papers.” 

And then he turned with a look of despair as 
the cumbersome form of his pursuer darkened 
the door. At the sight of Jimmy the ample-pro- 
portioned guardian of the law stepped forward 
to lay a heavy hand upon him, but Harrison 
Grant stopped him quietly. 

“Just a minute, here, Tom. The boy’s all 
right. I’ll look after him.e I think he’s got some- 
thing here we really want. In any event I’ll take 
care of the bag, whatever it is — and if the boy 
is wrong I’ll see that it gets back to its owner.” 


146 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

The policeman pondered dubiously. “Well,” 
he said finally, “I seen the kid running with tliis 
brown thing and a man chasing him, and I natur- 
ally thought something was wrong. But I’ll 
leave him with you if you say so, Mr. Grant.” 

Grant nodded and he left the room. 

Jimmy buzzed at Grant excitedly, like an irri- 
tating mosquito. 

“Open it up — please, Mr. Grant. It’s full of 
German papers. A guy left it on the ‘L’ train 
and I picked it up.” 

Harrison Grant, with thoughts of Jimmy and 
the Adventures of Old King Brady, looked down 
at the youngster and laughed. 

“Jimmy, it’s a good thing I know you’re a 

good boy or ”he had opened the portfolio 

now and was drawing out its contents. He stop- 
ped with a quick exclamation as his eyes rested 
on a letter. 

“The spy correspondence of Dr. Heinrich Al- 
bert!” 

As Harrison Grant was hastily running 
through the contents of the brown portfolio with 
which Jimmy had so unceremoniously presented 
him, the guests lounging about the parlors of the 
Ritz Carlton were somewhat startled at the sud- 
den entrance of a tall dark man. Caution almost 


TPIE BROWN PORTFOLIO 14T 

forgotten in the need for instant conference with 
his fellow plotters, Albert had hailed the first 
taxi driver in sight and ordered him to drive to 
the hotel at which Von Bernstorff the ambassa- 
dor, was stopping, as quickly as possible. Pay- 
ing the driver as they arrived, he had rushed into 
the lobby, had himself announced and impatiently 
fumed while the elevator with a slow elegance 
unappreciated by the doctor, carried him to the 
fioor of Von Bernstorff ’s suite. A moment later 
he was somewhat incoherently pouring his recital 
of events into the interested ears of Von Bern- 
storff, Von Papen and Boy-Ed. 

‘T fell asleep. I’ve been doing much night 
work,” this in a somewhat apologetic tone which 
won no sympathy from his hearers, “and awoke 
only when they called my station. I hurried out, 
forgetting my portfolio. How I did it I do not 
know. It never leaves my side. That I should 
have forgotten it now ” Albert threw him- 

self into a chair and ran his fingers through his 
hair excitedly. “The boy waved at me from the 
window of the train,” he went on. “I immediate- 
ly telephoned to the next station to have him 
stopped and the bag taken away from him. But 
they say when he got there he slid past the guard, 
ran down the steps, tripped up a newsdealer, got 
away from a policeman and then ran with it.” 


14S 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Jimmy would have been surprised to know what 
importance was attached to his actions of the past 
hour. 

Von Bernstorff frowned. ‘‘He’s probably taken 
it to the Secret Service,” he cut in. “The result 
will be that sooner or later every scheme outlined 
in that correspondence will be frustrated. It 
was careless, Albert, exceedingly careless work. 
But we must concern ourselves with the necessi- 
ties of the moment.” 

A moment’s pause ensued. “The consequences 
of this affair would be staggering if the papers 
should fall into the right hands.” 

Von Bernstorff spoke. “Von Rintelen must 
leave the country at once. He is not an attache 
or member of the Imperial German Embassy and 
therefore is not protected by international law.” 

Von Rintelen bowed assentingly. What 
Von Bernstorff said was true, and he rose. 

^^Auf weiderseheUj Von Rintelen.” Von Bern- 
stbrff held out his hand. Von Rintelen bowed 
and shook the hand of each of the men with whom 
he had been associated and with hurried expres- 
sions of farewell, left the room to make prepara- ' 
tions for flight from the country, flight that 
ended for him at Falmouth, England, where he 
was detained and returned to New York City. 
In February, 1918, Judge Howe of Vermont 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 149 


sentenced him to imprisonment for his activities 
against the peace of the United States. 

After Von Rintelen’s exit, Von Bernstorff 
turned once more to his fiscal spy and Boy-Ed 
and Von Papen. 

“As I said, we who are left must concern our- 
selves with the necessities of the moment which 
seem to be pressing upon us. Dr. Albert, what 
was the most important paper in the portfolio 
you carried?” 

“Von Rintelen’s report of the bombs placed 
on sugar ships.” 

Von Bernstorff smiled slightly. 

“That may give us a clue! Are all the ships 
at sea?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then if the papers are in the hands of the 
Secret Service ” 

“They’ll wireless the ships at sea,” broke in 
Albert. 

“Exactly.” Bernstorff nodded matter-of- 
factly. “We can find out speedily if they’re in 
possession of our secrets and arrange our acts ac- 
cordingly. You, Von Papen, and Boy-Ed, get 
out the Long Island automobile wireless and 
catch any messages that Sayville may send out 
tonight. Where is Von Lertz?” 

Von Papen shook his head. 


150 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

‘T think he has an engagement with Miss 
Mason.” 

“Miss Mason? Who is she?” Von Bemstorff 
glanced up sharply, but without waiting for reply 
went on, “he will have to break it. He must 
help you. I will telephone him to get Wolff von 
Igel and help you.” 

Von Papen and Boy-Ed, bowing, left the 
room. 

Bemstorff caught up the desk ’phone and rat- 
tled the hook impatiently. He was answered in 
a moment, and as he gave the number of Von 
Lertz’s apartntent, the girl at the switchboard 
smiled to herself in the privacy of her corner, and 
made a double connection for the benefit of Dixie 
Mason, who had been careful to plant her opera- 
tives in strategic places. Dixie Mason, listening ' 
quietly, on the ’phone in her own little boudoir 
heard Bemstorff call for Heinrich von Lertz, 
and in a moment caught Von Lertz’s quiet an- 
swer. She heard Bernstorff’s explanation of his 
call and the story of the loss of the reports given 
in a few words. 

“There is no time to waste, Von Lertz. All 
messages must be caught. Get Wolff von Igel 
at once, and you two go out with Von Papen and 
Boy-Ed in the machine.” 

“I will be with them in three quarters of an 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 151 

hour or sooner, if I can make it,” Von Lertz 
answered somewhat slowly. Dixie smiled broad- 
ly and suppressed a girlish giggle. The reason for 
Von Lertz’s hesitancy was not hard to be guessed 
at. 

But all hilarity disappeared the moment the 
receiver of her ’phone slipped gently into its hook. 
It was lifted very shortly and the voice of Dixie 
Mason, having called her number, was carried to 
the ear of the Chief of the Secret Service. 
quick conversation followed. 

“I will have men at Harden’s Comer. Did 
you get that? Harden’s corner,” he spoke in 
final tones. ‘‘Give them the signal I have just 
told them they would get from you. Everything 
straight? All right. Good bye.” 

Dixie pushed the ’phone from her. “Mamette! 
Hurry! The motor togs!” 

For the next half hour Dixie was extremely 
busy, and Mamette’s services had to be called 
upon to assist in the unusual toilette she was 
making. Although Heinric von Lertz, calling 
shortly to convey his regrets at the necessity of 
breaking his engagement with her for the motor 
trip they had planned, found her entrancingly 
gowned in a dark negligee, the door had hardly 
closed behind him, when the entrancing negligee 


152 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


slipped to the floor and disclosed Dixie Mason in 
motor clothes of an extremely mannish cut. 

Calling directions into the bemuddled ears of 
Mamette, donning goggles and cap at the same 
time, she hurried to the hall and into the elevator. 
As the machine of Heinric von Lertz, carrying 
with him Von Papen, and Boy-Ed, crossed the 
street intersection beyond on their way to Long 
Island, Dixie Mason’s car fairly leaped out of 
the driveway and on to the road they were taking. 

Across the city and over the bridge the big 
car with the small one following at a discreet but 
never faltering distance, took its way. At the 
bridge it was joined by the hea^y wireless auto- 
mobile carrying Wolff von Igel and a driver. 
Then out on the broad Long Island road with 
the course spreading smooth and straight before 
them. The spies were looking for a point of 
vantage in the hills where their wireless could be 
used to catch the messages going out from Say- 
ville to the sugar ships in danger. Dixie Mason 
was looking for a well known intersection of 
roads, where a road came down from a hill and 
cut sharply across the high road — a road well 
hidden except for its intersection. Her sharp 
eyes travelling beyond caught a glimpse of the 
white cross formed by the roads. Two long 
shrill wails followed by three short ones pierced 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 153 

the air, above the steady drumming of the heavy 
cars ahead. 

The cars containing Von Lertz and Von 
Papen, Von Igel and his driver dashed past the 
intersection of the road where a tall signpost 
bearing the information that this was Harden’s 
Corner reared itself. To the men in the cars 
the sign meant nothing, but to Dixie Mason it 
meant success or failure. A moment of suspense 
for her followed, and then a machine dashed into 
the road between her car and the cars ahead. 
Dixie slowed down. Her services were not 
needed now. The other Secret Service opera- 
tives would complete her work for her, but hop- 
ing to see the finish she drove on slowly. 

The spies evidently not knowing they were fol- 
lowed had driven their car up into a road leading 
to a hill overlooking the water. Von Papen and 
Boy-Ed were making the necessary connection 
of the wireless that would enable them to catch 
the messages at sea. Von Igel, with the driver, 
was standing guard. Suddenly Von Igel uttered 
a warning shout. Explanations were unneces- 
sary. A glance below showed that they were dis- 
covered. Von Lertz, followed by Von Papen, 
leaped into his machine and swung into the road, 
followed by Von Igel in the wireless ma- 
chine. With roaring exhausts they raced for the 


154 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

broad road that led to the city. Behind them,^ 
swinging and swerving, thundered the car carry- 
ing the Secret Service men. 

Far away Dixie Mason, driving leisurely, 
heard the sounds of the race. The hills resounded 
with the heavy echoes of the pounding machines. 
As she reached the crest of the hill she saw them 
below her. A small stream which was crossed by 
a bridge lay at the foot of the hill. As Von Lertz 
struck the bridge his car leaped into the air, 
wavered a moment and then crashed ahead, over 
the bridge and with a grinding of brakes, up the 
side of the embankment. Then Dixie gave a cry 
of horror as Von Igel’s heavy car following 
struck the edge of the bridge as Von Lertz’s had 
done, but with less luck, for the car swerved, 
skidded, swung about, and then striking the 
heavy cement railing of the bridge, capsized, 
pinioning Wolif von Igel beneath it. A moment 
m.ore and a flame shot high into the air as the 
gasoline tank exploded. Von Lertz and Von 
Papen worked madly, endeavoring to extricate 
Von Igel from the wrecked car. She could not 
see the driver. Dixie peered beyond them. In 
the distance she could see the car which should 
have carried her Secret Service co-workers to the 
successful climax of this affair, stalled, its erst- 
while occupants working in vain endeavors to 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 155 

start it. Dixie groaned. After all, it was up to 
her. 

Well acquainted with the character of the men 
whose schemes she combatted daily with a wit 
equal to theirs but with less resources to forestall, 
she summoned her courage and thoughts to do her 
bidding. Through fate, luck, she knew not what, 
her plan was endangered. And then this same 
fate played into her hands. 

As her car slid slowly down the hill. Von 
Papen spoke quickly to Von Lertz. 

“Do you know who this is coming down the 
hilir’ 

Von Lertz glanced up. “No, but we passed 
him back in town. Why?” 

“We can use him — if he is all right. You and 
Boy-Ed take Von Igel in your machine and get 
him to a hospital quick. I’ll have to try a rather 
dangerous stunt — ^work the Fifth Avenue wire- 
less. It’s risky but ” 

Dixie had brought her machine to a standstill 
near the smoking wreck of Von Igel’s wireless 
machine. Her heart pounded madly as Von 
Papen stepped toward her. Was fate favoring 
her? It seemed so! 

She drew her cap down and adjusted her gog- 
gles more firmly as Von Papen advanced. 


156 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


“We’ve had an accident here,” he said, “I’ve got 
to get hack to town. Can you take me?” 

Dixie nodded and opened the door. Von 
Papen stepped in and gave her directions as to 
where he wished her to drive him — ^little know- 
ing that he was giving information to the woman 
representative of the Secret Service ! 

“Turn into Fifth Avenue at Fifty-second 
Street and then start up-town. Make it as fast 
as the law allows!” Captain von Papen was 
snapping his orders excitedly, hut in a low voice. 
“I’ve got to get there to notify the mother of l^he 
boy who has just been hurt. Understand?” 

Dixie nodded. Her foot pressed the accelera- 
tor. A moment more and the finger of the 
speedometer climbed to forty miles, then fifty 
and slowly to sixty where it stayed until the out- 
lines of the city began to show against the west- 
ern sky. Then Dixie slowed down to a speed 
which would allow her to pass the policemen they 
began to encounter at intervals without inter- 
ference. She crossed over to Madison Avenue, 
and there slowed down. Von Papen glanced out 
and around the machine nervously. Evidently 
the way was clear, for he reached into his pocket 
and drew out a hill which he pressed into the 
driver’s hand. “Drive on, please, no need to wait 
for me,” he called, hurrying to the sidewalk. 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 157 

Dixie nodded and started the machine. She 
crossed Fifth Avenue. Just beyond the corner 
she stopped the car and jumped out. Scurrying 
to the corner she watched Von Papen enter the 
house. It was Dr. Albert’s house, the huge Fifth 
Avenue mansion that German efficiency had 
turned into a spies’ nest from which to prey upon 
a country with which it claimed to be on friendly 
terms and by whom it was trusted. Dixie Mason 
glanced up at its close curtained windows. Some- 
where inside was Von Papen, gone there on an 
errand unknown to her but which she knew had 
some bearing on the events of the afternoon. 
What was his mission? 

In a moment the answer was given her. High 
up on the roof the slender antennae of a wireless 
outfit was being raised. Higher and higher with 
slim tentacles spreading as the machinery inside 
that controlled it was operated. 

There was no need for conjecture now. Dixie 
Mason knew the meaning of Von Papen’s mad 
rush to reach this house. It was to reach another 
wireless depot from which messages could be 
caught and stopped. And she had been the 
means of assisting him to his purpose! Dixie 
Mason turned and ran to her car. A moment 
later she was breaking all traffic regulations as 


158 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


she sped toward the Criminology Club with one 
idea in mind — to reach Harrison Grant. 

But already the message of warning to the 
sugar ships far out on the ocean had been flashed 
from Sayville. The gigantic efforts of the Ger- 
man spies to stop the messages had been to no 
purpose. Harrison Grant upon finding the re- 
port of the bombs placed in the hold of the sugar 
ships had stopped first to order the warning sent 
through Sayville, and then calling Cavanaugh, 
Sisson and Stewart, had hurried with them to the 
dock to warn the crew of the Cragside of the 
bomb in her hold, and prevent, if possible, a 
catastrophe. But as they approached the dock 
the black clouds of smoke darkening the clear 
sky told them they were too late. The Cragside 
was a mass of flames and the dock an inferno of 
smoke through which the wet rubber coats of fire- 
men gleamed. Huge streams of water played on 
the ill-fated vessel, and the shouts and yells of 
excited dock hands mingled with the roar of 
flames and water and the weird sirens of newly 
arriving fire engines. 

There was little they could do there. Grant, 
sickened at the appalling waste and the heartless- 
ness of the crime, which they had been too late to 
prevent, turned his footsteps slowly back toward 
the Club. Was there no end to fiendishness 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 159 


which could concoct such acts as this? Would 
the eyes of tlie people never be opened to the 
danger that stalked abroad among them in the 
guise of friendship? Would this country, too, be 
drawn into the war that was sapping the strength 
of the nations and causing a depth of misery such 
as the world had never before experienced? 
Grant wondered at it all, wishing that things 
w^ere not as they were, marveling that others 
would not see that peace could never exist with 
a government which fawned and smiled and of- 
fered the hand of friendship even as it planned 
acts too treacherous for an honorable nation to 
conceive of. 

He had stretched his weary limbs in the deep 
softness of the leather couch in the lounging room 
of the Club. Doubtless he heard the soimd of a» 
car drawn up to the curb before the Club. If he 
did he was too tired to care who it was. 

Dixie Mason still in her mannish auto togs 
signalled to Pat Hennessy at the door of the 
Club. 

“TeU Mr. Grant to come at once and bring 
his best men with him, I think I can crowd three 
in here. Hurry, please!” 

Hennessy was used to strange happenings. 
His affiliations with the Criminology Club had 
accustomed him to the need of quick action and 


160 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


now quick action seemed to be the desired thing. 
He disappeared into the Club to re-appear in a 
moment with Grant and Cavanaugh and Stewart. 

Grant peered into the machine at the slim 
figure of the driver. 

“Who are you?” he asked sharply. 

Dixie flashed her Secret Service commission, 
concealing the name. 

“What else?” The secret sign of the service 
was given him as Dixie raised her gauntletted 
hand. Without further questions he stepped in, 
followed by Stewart. Cavanaugh clung to the 
running board. 

A moment more and Dixie Mason’s little car 
was speeding toward Fifth Avenue, defying all 
law in general and policemen in particular in her 
mad haste to reach the house Von Papen had en- 
tered. 

She slowed down at the corner where she had 
stopped before and pointed to the house. She 
spoke in a low voice and directed her speech at 
Stewart. “In that house there, they are working 
the wireless!” 

Grant jumped to the sidewalk. He gave his 
directions in low tones. Dixie watched them seek 
for admittance at the door. She watched them 
open the iron barred gate and then with a 
splintering crash force their way into the house. 


THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 161 

She saw the butler that blocked their path fall 
under someone’s heavy blow. And then they dis- 
appeared into the darkness of the gloomy recep- 
tion hall. 

Grant and his men strode to the panelled door- 
way opening into the great room in which Dr. 
Albert received his guests and where the confer- 
ences of the German plotters were held. From 
behind the heavy doors came the crackle and 
splutter of a wireless apparatus. 

Under the strength of the three men the doors 
burst inward. Inside of the room, two men work- 
ing the wireless rushed vainly toward the French 
windows for escape, only to find themselves 
pinioned and. helpless in the handcuffs slipped on 
them by Grant and his operatives. 

Cavanaugh and Stewart soon dismantled the 
wireless equipment and put out of commission 
forever one of Germany’s most dangerous weap- 
ons in America, but Grant watching them knew 
that it was but one of many and that for every 
blow thus dealt a dozen plots would spring up 
elsewhere. While this evil festered in their midst 
the eyes of the Secret Service must never close. 

He left the operatives on guard and turned 
toward the street with his captives. 

“Good man — that fellow who brought us 
here,” he mused as they stepped out on the stone 


162 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


doorstep. ‘‘He’s worth a special report to the 

Chief. If it hadn’t been for him ” 

He stopped. Where the racer with its hooded, 
gauntletted driver had been was vacancy! His 
mysterious informant was gone! 


Chapter VIII 


THE KAISER'^S DEATH MESSENGER — ^ROBERT FAY 

A deatlily calm hung over the trenches. After 
a day made hideous by the thunder of artillery 
and shriek of shells an unearthly peace had set- 
tled over the desolate stretch of shell-torn battle- 
ground. In the German trenches a sergeant 
leaned against the sandbag fortifications. The 
light from his cigarette glowed fitfully in the 
darkness as he puffed at it nervously, while 
he waited for the men he had chosen to accom- 
pany him in an attack on the French trenches. 
Soon he would be crawling out over the shell- 
pitted stretch of No Man’s Land with a haver- 
sack filled with hand grenades. His proficiency 
in handling them had brought him fame in the 
ranks of the Kaiser’s army. Fame! He tossed 
the cigarette butt aside contemptuously and then 
stamped on its glowing end. Fame! What was 
it compared to life? Why should he, for the 
sake of a few days of glory and a name for being 
successful in carrying out these bombing attacks, 
168 


164 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


risk his life — his life which could be used for stop- 
ping the whole terrible business and bringing the 
war to a close in which Germany would be vic- 
torious? He clenched his fist in the darkness and 
struck at the sandbag. If his plans could be 
used he would stop in three months the muni- 
tions supply of the Allies and soon for w^ant of 
munitions they would sue for Peace. 

He reached for his watch. Its faint phos- 
phorescence pointed the hour to him. He heard 
the tramp of footsteps. His men were coming. 
Soon he would be out there crawling through the 
darkness toward that’ other line of trenches, dodg- 
ing wire entanglements, playing possum beneath 
the light of flares. Perhaps this raid would be his 
last. Perhaps in a day or so a cross would be 
raised for him, 

“Sergeant Robert Fay, Died for Fatherland.” 

The footsteps drew nearer. The sergeant 
raised himself in preparation for taking com- 
mand — and then he stopped. Out of the dark- 
ness his superior officer’s voice came to him in 
guttural accents: 

“Sergeant Fay, you are to report at once to 
Cologne for promotion and other duty.’ 

Fay received the announcement with the stolid- 
ity born of long military training, but a moment 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 165 


later the meaning of the words transformed his 
features, 

"‘My plans have been approved!” he gasped. 

But the officer had disappeared. Fay could 
hear the tramp of liis retreating footsteps. 

Far removed from scenes of strife and horror 
and suffering, separated from them by the broad 
blue of the Atlantic, the tide of life rolled on 
peacefully in the United States. Peacefully — to 
all appearances. There a people tom with sympa- 
thy and pity for the wrongs wreaked on helpless 
Belgium by the greedy hand of Germany sought 
to alleviate those wrongs and bring what help 
they could to the suffering nation by food supplies 
and gifts of money and clothing. They little knew 
that the horrors that had waged on their own 
shores were to meet with success. While the 
American people pursued their peaceful occupa- 
tions, sinuous tentacles were reaching out to en- 
tangle them in the war that was casting its 
shadow over Europe. 

On the twenty-fifth floor of a building that 
reared its dark heights among other skyscrapers 
on Wall Street, in a luxuriously furnished office, 
two men sat in conference — Captain Franz von 
Papen, Military Attache of the Imperial Ger- 
man Government, and Captain Karl Boy-Ed, 
Naval Attache. 


166 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

In an outer office sat Wolff von Igel, Von 
Papen’s secretary. His knock at the door inter- 
rupted the conference in the inner office. 

“Lieutenant Fay wishes to see you.” 

Von Papen glanced up with a frown. 

“I can’t see him now. Tell him to come back 
in an hour.” 

“I told him you were busy but he has a letter 
from the General Staff which indicates that his 
visit may be of importance.” 

Von Papen hesitated. 

“Show him in,” he ordered. 

A moment later Robert Fay erstwhile expert 
grenade thrower of the German trenches, now 
promoted to a lieutenancy, saluted the Captain. 

Von Papen eyed him closely. 

“Your papers?” ^ ^ 

Fay handed him a letter. Von Papen read it 
and handed it to Boy-Ed, his gaze returning 
again to Fay. 

“So you are here to help us? How did you 
make the trip?” 

“I arrived yesterday on the Rotterdam, My 
passport was made out to one Kearling from 
whom I bought it in Cologne. It is a simple mat- 
ter now to buy a passport. I substituted Kearl- 
ing’s picture for my own. His description fitted 
mine nearly enough to pass.” 




T 






► S • 

















fiUrnfrai^i 



The counterfeit passport 



KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 167 

“But the passport must be stamped,” inter- 
posed Boy-Ed. 

“Yes, but that too is simple. The photograph 
is simply perforated to match the perforations of 
the stamp already on the passport. You see how 
easy it is. I am here. I have had no trouble. 
But now I am Fay, no longer Kearling.” 

“Very good,” commented Von Papen. “And 
now your plan.” 

“It is to stop the export of munitions to the 
Allies from the United States for three months 
and perhaps permanently.” 

His listeners looked at him somewhat incredu- 
lously. 

“I am by profession a mechanic and have had 
in mind many inventions. My most recent one is 
a bomb which will not explode until the vessel is 
three miles out. This, when attached to muni- 
tion carrying ships, will also cause the munitions 
to explode. My plan has meet the approval of the 
German Government to such an extent that they 
have commissioned me to come to the United 
States for the purpose of carrying it out. They 
have generously granted me 20,000 marks to 
further my plans.” 

“You will perhaps be kind enough to describe 
this bomb to us?” Von Papen indicated a chair 
and they drew close about the table. 


168 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


“You are acquainted with the explosive Trini- 
trate of Tolual?” 

They nodded. “What is known at T.N.T.?” 
Boy-Ed commented. 

“Exactly. This bomb carries 100 pounds of 
T.N.T. It is so arranged that it can be fastened 
to the rudder post of a ship with a wire line run- 
ning from that to a clamp that fits on the rudder. 
As the rudder is worked in the movement of the 
ship at sea, the line will wind up, tightening the 
clockwork until the spring inside is released. This 
will send the plunger against two rifle cartridges 

which will explode the T.N.T. and ” he 

stopped. There was no necessity for finishing 
the sentence. A fanatical light shown in his 
eyes. He clasped and unclasped his hands in an 
intensity of excitement, and his hearers uncon- 
sciously absorbed his mood. 

“Our bomb squads have used T.N.T. effec- 
tively on various occasions,” said Boy-Ed with 
a smile at Von Papen. “As the highest powered 
aeroplane bomb carries only about 80 pounds of 
T.N.T. we are able to judge quite accurately 
what 100 pounds can accomplish.” 

Von Papen nodded and reaching across the 
table for a match lighted his cigar. 

“Lieutenant Fay, does anyone know of your 
arrival in America?” 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 169 


“No one,” answered Fay, “except his excel- 
lency, Count von Bernstorff.” 

“That is well. You perhaps are not well ac- 
quainted with conditions here. Our position de- 
mands that we must not be known as the direc- 
tors of any movement of espionage against the 
United States. Germany, of course, is not at war 
wdth the United States. To the United States 
we are a friendly nation.” He flicked the ashes 
from his cigar with a contemptuous movement. 

A cynical smile crossed the face of Boy-Ed. 
It was reflected on the face of Fay. 

For a few moments a deep silence settled on 
the room. From far below on Wall Street 
sounds of traffic drifted up, shouts of drivers, 
newsboys, fruit venders, each sound echoed and 
magnified as it rose between the dark walls of the 
building that bordered the street. 

Fay stirred uneasily. The even tones of Von 
Papen once more broke the silence. 

“In this crusade it is inevitable that many ships 
will be blown up. If we who are here in public 
official capacity should become identified in any 
w^ay w ith this movement it wnuld lead to our dis- 
missal from the country — and dismissal at this 
time wnuld mean the relinquishment of many 
plans now under way. Therefore, if your plan 
should fail and you should be arrested we would, 


170 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

of course, be compelled to repudiate you. like- 
wise it would be your duty to say that you had 
tried to see us but that we had denied you an 
interview. This is clear to you?” 

Fay smiled imperturbably. 

‘T understand.” 

“Very well. We are then in a position to be 
of aid to you as far as possible. You will of 
course need exposives. It is very difficult just 
now to obtain these.'* 

“In case you cannot get the T.N.T. at once 
I will be willing to go on with my work using 
dynamite until the higher explosive can be 
secured. But I would rather have the T. N. T. 
Can I count on you to procure it for me?” 

“As soon as possible, but it may take some 
time. As I said, explosives are hard to procure 
now unless some good reason is given for their 
need.” 

Fay arose and pushed his chair back. “This 
will be agreeable to me. I will put in my time 
perfecting my bomb case and will report to you 
by the end of the week, Friday if it is convenient.” 

In a moment the door closed behind him and 
they heard his footsteps echoing down the hall. 

Boy-Ed glanced at Von Papen quizzically. 
“The procuring of this T.N.T. — it is most im-^ 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 171 

portant that he have it, but how can it be brought 
about?” 

Von Papen smiled. “Do you remember the 
doctor that Von Igel brought to the Club one 
night last week?” Boy-Ed nodded. “He spoke 
to me of a friend who has access to explosives 
of all kinds. Through him I am sure I can sup- 
ply Fay with the material for this wonderful 
bomb of his.” 

Friday found Fay again in enthusiastic con- 
ference with the Captain. 

“I have rented a garage on Main Street in 
Weehawken which I will use for an experimental 
station,” he reported. “To throw off suspicion I 
rented it, saying I was going to conduct an auto- 
mobile repair business. I have an old motor car 
there which I have taken apart to carry out the 
illusion, but meanwhile I am working on my 
mine. Have you been able to learn where I can 
procure some T.N.T. ?” 

“I have worked through several people and 
have at last arranged for an amount of this ma- 
terial large enough to enable you to do some prac- 
tical work, to be delivered to you as soon as I 
received your address. I will see now that the 
shipment is made in a day or so.” Von Papen 
scribbled the address of the garage in Wee- 


172 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


hawken on a memorandum and Fay departed, 
pleased at the results of his visit. 

A lull had fallen on the affairs of the crim- 
inology Club. To its members, always on the 
alert to stamp out the first fires of intrigue before 
they spread their destroying flames over the 
peace of the country, the lull brought no illusions. 
They recognized it simply as the lull before an- 
other storm. 

It was the day of Fay’s second visit to Von 
Papen’s office. Pat Hennessy, dooiman at the 
Criminology Club, had just announced a visitor 
and shown him into Harrison Grant’s office. 

Grant surveyed his visitor quizzically. 

“My name is Wettig, C. L. Wettig. I am a 
dealer in explosives,” he announced simply. 

Grant nodded and motioned him to a chair. 

“I have something which I think will be of in- 
terest to you. I have been asked to procure for 
certain parties a quantity of T.N.T. You are of 
course acquainted with the nature of this explo- 
sive and the use it is commonly put to?” 

A gleam of interest shone in Grant’s eyes. 
“Trinitrate of Tolual? Yes.” 

Wettig wasted no time in words. He told his 
story briefly. 

‘T have, in fact, been approached by several 
people recently, all of whom seemed particularly 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 173 

interested in obtaining some of it. I thought it 
best to go ahead with the deal in an effort to gain 
all the information possible concerning the per- 
sons who wanted it. Now, however, something 
has happened which brings me to the need of ad- 
vice. Today I was told to deliver the T.N.T. as 
soon as I could get it to a garage in Weehawken. 
Shortly after I was told that the purchaser had 
changed his address. I’m afraid he has slipped 
through my hands.” 

He surveyed Grant somewhat anxiously but 
appeared reassured by Grant’s decision. “No, I 
think he is probably playing safe. You will un- 
doubtedly hear from him in a day or so. Let me 
know when you do.” 

Wettig picked up his hat. “We’ll let it stand 
that way then. As soon as I hear anything I 
will communicate with you.” 

A week sped by without further information 
regarding the personnel of those who wished the 
T.N.T. 

Harrison Grant had put the week to good use. 
A casual acquaintance formed in the past ^vith 
Madam Augusta Stephan, chief of Germany’s 
women spies in America, had been cultivated with 
care and subtle intent on his part. Madam 
Stephan, somewhat blindly, renewed the ac- 
quaintanceship with the feeling that it was a hea- 


174 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


ven-sent opportunity which would enable her to 
gain information for the interests she served. 

At her invitation Grant was spending a most 
enjoyable evening in her apartment. Madam 
Stephan was clever. Too clever, he mused as she 
left the room with a promise to return wdth ‘‘one 
of those American cocktails,” which she professed 
to be an adept at mixing. His glance strayed to 
a little writing desk near the couch upon which 
he lounged. He could hear the clink of glass in 
the little kitchenette. With a quick move he 
slipped the desk top down and noiselessly ran over 
a pile of letters that lay in full sight. The clink 
of glasses on a tray grew louder. Madam 
Stephan was returning. He thrust the top let- 
ter into his pocket and closed the desk. 

Madam Stephan’s beautiful face clouded with 
disappointment as Harrison Grant, bewailing 
the necessity that forced him to leave the pleasure 
of her company so early, shortly after made his 
adieus. The disappointment turned to plain 
anger as the door closed behind him and she 
realized that her efforts to gain his confidence had 
not met with success. 

Grant’s evening had proved more profitable. 
The letter he had purloined from Madam 
Augusta’s writing desk he read later with ob- 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 175 


vious satisfaction in his ofBce at the Criminology 
Club. 

“Dear Madame,” the letter ran, “Fay will 

be able to obtain what dynamite he needs at 

the old lighthouse at Marsh’s Inlet. C. L. 

Wettig has promised a quantity of T.N.T. 

Sincerely, Von Papen.” 

“Wettig!” It was the man who had talked with 
him early in the week, the explosives agent. It 
was probable that the Fay referred to was the 
man of whom Wettig had spoken. It was more 
than probable. Certainty grew in Grant’s mind 
as he outlined his plans for action. He reached 
for the push button that summoned Cavanaugh. 

“Get C. L. Wettig here as soon as you can,” 
he ordered, handing Billy Cavanaugh the card 
Wettig had left on his recent visit. 

Billy Cavanaugh made good time. It was 
scarcely three-quarters of an hour later when he 
returned with his man. 

Grant greeted him cordially. “Well Wettig, 
we have a line on your man. Have you heard 
anything?” 

Wettig pulled a slip of paper from his pocket 
and a card. 

“Not until today when a man called at my of- 
fice and told me to deliver the stuff to a boathouse 


176 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


on the Jersey shore tomorrow, to a Robert Fay. 
Here’s the location of the place.” 

A smile of satisfaction crossed Grant’s face. 

“Fay. That was the name.” He glanced up. 
“You haven’t delivered the stuff yet, of course?” 

“No, I was going to see you first. Thought it 
was too late tonight to get hold of you.” 

“Not us. The Criminology Club never 
sleeps,” Grant smiled. “Tomorrow have the 
T.N.T. delivered to me. Then get into com- 
munication with this Fay and tell him that you 
are having it sent over by someone he can trust. 
Someone who is all right. You understand? 
Tell him that your messenger is a trained me- 
chanic and is anxious to he of help to ‘The 
Cause.’ ” The last was added with a sardonic 
smile. 

Wettig nodded. “I get you. Tomorrow I’ll 
have the stuff delivered. Here’s a card that was 
given me when they first started negotiations. 
This 'Nvill help you get by and show them you are 
the one I mentioned.” He held a card. Grant, 
looking through it toward the light, saw the coat- 
of-arms of Germany watermarked on it. 

“Thanks. I’ll be able to make good use of it,” 
he said slipping the card into a leather purse. 

Wettig held out his hand. “Good bye, and 
good luck.” 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 177 

The men shook hands, and a moment later 
Pat Hennessy was closing the outside door after 
Wettig. 

For precautionary reasons Robert Fay had 
moved his headquarters in Weehawken to the 
boat house, the description of which had been 
given to Wettig. He worked with the assistance 
only of a brother-in-law, Walter Scholz, whom he 
had inveigled into giving up a position in a Con- 
necticut city to come to Jersey and help him in 
the manufacture of the bombs which were to play 
havoc with all shipping in Atlantic ports. 

The afternoon after Wettig’s conference with 
Grant, Fay, working on the model of the stern of 
a ship, hastily covered it with canvas as he heard 
the rumble of wheels outside. A wagon drew up 
and a moment later a hea\y knock shook the 
weather-beaten hoarding of the boat house door. 

Fay gave a quick glance around the boat house 
to see that everything was covered. “What do 
you want?” he called. 

There was no answer. Fay frowned, and then 
caught sight of a card slipping through a crack 
in the door. He pulled it through and held it to 
the light. The eagle of Germany showed clearly. 
It was the pass card! 

Fay opened the door. Outside a laborer, dark, 
and roughly dressed stood holding in each hand 


178 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

a suit case. Striding into the boat house he laid 
them carefully side by side. 

“T.N.T. A hundred pounds even. Danger- 
ous stuff,” he announced, rubbing his hands to- 
gether. “They gave me orders to stay and help 
you.” 

Fay looked at him. “Yes, I was told.” He 
hesitated a moment and stirred uneasily. His 
new assistant watched him calmly. Fay broke 
the silence. “We who work for Germany are 
watched constantly. You will therefore under- 
stand if I appear inquisitive. I must assure my- 
self that you are entirely in sympathy with what 
I am working for.” 

The newcomer laughed easily. “If I wasn’t 
I wouldn’t be running the risk of getting pinched 
by carrying around this T.N.T. But if you want 
credentials I can tell you that I have done a few 
things myself in connection with the work of 
the German Government.” 

Fay looked interested. “Is it so? Then we 
will work well together.” That his assistant’s 
task had been to land various hired agents of the 
German Government in federal prisons for stays 
ranging from two to ten years was something 
that Fay was not yet destined to know and eager 
to be back at his work, he put aside further ques- 
tioning and with the pride of a fanatic who sees 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 1T9 

his one idea about to be realized, described his in- 
vention. The canvas covering was thrown off the 
model of the ship’s stern. The manner in which 
the bomb could be screwed to the rudder post, 
just how the wire line would lead to the rudder 
and how the clockwork would gradually wind and 
wind with the motion of the rudder until the 
tightened springs inside set off the plunger which 
would cause an explosion of sufficient force to 
blow the ship from the face of the ocean was 
described. 

As they worked together in the succeeding 
days Fay told him of the dreams of destruction 
which were seemingly to be realized. He told 
him how first munition carrying ships would be 
attacked, and then the food ships. And then, his 
plans succeeding, his energies would be extended 
to war ships operating outside the three mile 
limit. 

“And as a final blow,” he finished, “one day 
there is the harbor of New York. With one blow 
— one great explosion — it can be cleared of all 
shipping, its docks and wharfs destroyed. New 
York’s giant shipping industry will be crippled 
forever and the Allies delayed for months by 
being deprived of the supplies they need. Such 
an event would be a victory for Germany un- 


180 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

equalled in the annals of her magnificent his- 
tory!” 

His assistant glanced at him with a look bor- 
dering on repulsion, hut Fay, in the frenzy of 
imagination, was blind to it. 

“And the loss of life? That also does not 
matter?” 

“Why should we care,” Fay answered reck- 
lessly. “Germany will bombard New York any- 
way — why not now? And the glory of the 
achievement ” 

He was interrupted by a knock at the door, 
and went outside. The murmur of voices sifted 
into the boat house. Then Fay reappeared. 

“It is a message. They are complaining at our 
slovmess. But I was able to tell them that our 
bomb is finished. And the time for action has 
come. Tonight our first blow will be struck!” 

The assistant leaned forward and smiled pe- 
culiarly. He reached back to his pocket, slowly, 
carefully. 

“No it won’t.” The words fell strangely in the 
quiet of the dingy boat house. Fay stared. 

“It won’t! Why not?” 

“Because I arrest you in the name of the 
United States of America!” 

A livid light spread over Fay’s face. He 
stared at the other speechlessly, as though his 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 181 

vocal organs had suddenly been stricken with 
paralysis. Then he gasped strangely. 

‘‘You — Secret Service? You ” he rushed 

at Grant madly. But Grant whipped his revol- 
ver around and pressed the trigger. 

It snapped futiley. 

Angrily Grant threw it at Fay’s oncoming 
form and retreated to the wall. As Fay reached 
him Grant raised his foot and planted it squarely 
on Fay’s chest. With a strange inhuman groan. 
Fay fell backward. 

His career as a bomb plotter was over. 

The news of his arrest spread quickly. Marsh’s 
Inlet, where the boat house was located, was a ren- 
dezvous for many who came there to enjoy the 
winter sports. The day after Fay’s arrest, 
Dixie Mason came with Von Lertz to the Inlet. 
In the crowds she was able to pick out a dozen or 
more people whom she could identify as being in 
active sympathy with German interests in 
America. 

A short way down the shore was the light- 
house, long since abandoned though still pic- 
turesque. Dixie, somewhat wearied from an 
afternoon of skating had retreated to the shelter 
house. As she unlaced her skating shoes, she 
glanced up to see through the window a group of 
men passing. One of them she recognized as 


182 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Harrison Grant. For a moment her heart throb- 
lied wildly and a fear that he had come to the 
Inlet for the skating and that again she would 
be seen with Von Lertz, left her weak. But she 
stifled it. Her own hopes and fears and desires 
must not influence the work she had set her hand 
to. 

She watched with relief the group of figures 
as they passed on their way toward the light- 
house. A vague wonder as to their intent flitted 
through her mind and then was blotted out by 
a new interest. Madam Stephan had arrived. 
Dixie saw her glance over the crowd outside, 
single out Von Lertz and beckon to him with a 
gesture imperceptible to one untrained to catch 
the slightest gesture and attach a meaning to it. 

Von Lertz glided to the shore and stopped be- 
fore her. They were beside the shelter house and 
close to the window. 

Dixie heard Madam Stephan’s voice, quiet 
hut ringing with suppressed excitement. 

“Grant has gone to raid the dynamite depot in 
the lighthouse.” 

“Yes?” Von Lertz’s interest was instant. 
“And the trap?” 

“Set and ready to spring.” 

A shiver of dread passed through Dixie Mason. 
•What was this trap they spoke of? Grant was 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 183 

in danger! The man whom Dixie could not for- 
get nor put out of her mind. The man who oc- 
cupied her thoughts as no man had done before. 
She wavered — and then straightened up deter- 
minedly. She smiled graciously at Madam 
Stephan, entering the shelter house. And she 
walked out to where Von Lertz was awaiting her 
still smiling, but her heart was heavy with anxiety 
for Harrison Grant. A man skating in long 
curves glided past and then with a sudden turn 
faced her. He glanced at her closely as he skated 
slowly backward. Dixie had seen him several 
times during the afternoon. She had noticed liim 
eyeing Von Papen and Boy-Ed. A faint hope 
came to her. Could it be that he was a “forward 
shadow?” — the man who takes the risks of the 
Secret Service to aid some other man to gain evi- 
dence? 

She caught his eye, and winked quicldy, her 
eyelids making the dots and dashes of the Morse 
code. 

“Secret Service?” she signalled. 

The man nodded. Dixie’s heart bounded with 
hope. She signalled again. 

“Grant — danger — lighthouse !” 

She turned to Von Lertz. Looking back she 
saw the Secret Service man making for the shel- 
ter house. 


184 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


The two men whom Harrison Grant and his 
operatives found in the lighthouse submitted to 
arrest with unusual alacrity. The ease with which 
they were taken puzzled Grant for a moment but 
it was forgotten in the interest awakened by the 
place they had raided. Grant ordered the men to 
drive to headquarters with the captured spies, 
deciding to make further investigations himself. 

The lower room of the lighthouse bore all the 
evidences of a typical bomb manufactory. The 
odor of chemicals hung heavy in the air. Tables 
were loaded with retorts and measuring glasses. 
Lengths of leaden pipe and great jars of acid 
were stored on broad shelves. Grant marvelled at 
the great stores of material on hand, and the indi- 
cations of preparations being made for wholesale 
destruction. In one corner of the room were 
several packing boxes labelled “Dynamite,” and 
coiled lengths of fusing. 

Grant, hands in pocket, had taken a mental in- 
ventory of the contents of the room. It would be 
necessary to secure further help. The light- 
house must be guarded until the destructive store 
of materials it held could be removed to places in 
which they could put them to better use. He 
walked musingly to the window. Far down the 
inlet the crowds of skaters still held away and 
the late afternoon sun shone brilliantly on the 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 185 

myriad colored throng. It was very quiet in the 
room. So quiet indeed that Grant started sud- 
denly at a muffled but clearly audible “Click!” 
The sound was a familiar one. It was the click 
of the hammer of a gun that had failed to lire, 
and it came from above. 

For one moment Grant hesitated as a succes- 
sion of thoughts passed through his brain. Lead- 
ing to an upper room at one corner was a ladder. 
His assistant, whoever he was, was in that upper 
room! Grant made a dash for the ladder — but 
his onrush was stopped midway as a revolver, 
thrown with heavy force, caught him above the 
eye and hurled his body back to the floor, un- 
conscious. 

A moment later, Avith a scurry of footsteps, a 
man rushed down the ladder. He paused to 
glance at the body and around the room. An end 
of fusing lay near at hand. With a quick move- 
ment he jerked it out and whipping a match from 
his pocket lighted the end. The other end lay 
across a box of dynamite — and the unconscious 
body of Grant lay on the floor. 

With a grunt of satisfaction, as the red flame 
caught at the fuse and then died down to a glow- 
ing, growing ember that slowly but obstinately 
ate its way along the fuse, the spy opened the 
door and was gone. 


186 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

An automobile was approaching, its course 
marked by clouds of snow. In the machine was 
the man to whom Dixie Mason had signalled her 
message of distress, and with him two others. 

For an appreciable moment the spy considered 
his avenues of escape. They were pitiably few. 
One was a run for the woods in case the pur- 
suers had not yet caught sight of him. The other 
was no less hazardous. Drawn up on the bank 
was an iceboat, left on the shore by someone evi- 
dently intending to return shortly, for it was full 
rigged. A swift run across the inlet in the ice- 
boat might prove successful in throwing them off 
his track. As the automobile drew nearer, the 
spy made his decision and slipped around the 
lighthouse to the iceboat. With a running push 
it slid before his weight far out on the ice. He 
clambered aboard and whipped the sails into 
shape. The wind caught them with a wild bil- 
lowing and flapping and the craft glided out on 
the smooth ice of the inlet like a great white bird. 

For a moment the lighthouse hid him, and then 
it was impossible to escape observation. Now 
the auto had reached the lighthouse. The driver 
leaped out. 

“Follow him,” he shouted. “I’ll see to Grant.” 

The machine plunge*d down the embankment 
of the shore and out on the ice in a spray of snow. 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 187 

Inside the lighthouse Grant groped in return- 
ing consciousness. About him swirled clouds of 
smoke. The fuse, along which the slowly creep- 
ing red fire advanced, had ignited a hunch of 
chemical-soaked excelsior. Choking and fighting 
for breath Grant essayed to rise. In fitful 
moments of consciousness he realized his peril 
and the need for help. 

Was this to be the end of his endeavors to help 
his country free herself from the treacherous 
clutch that was fast choking the breath of free- 
dom from her? Were all his efforts to be in vain, 
and was he too, to fall a victim to that iron hand? 
In a moment more the flames would reach their 
objective. With a final struggle he relapsed once 
more into oblivion, as the flames crackled and the 
smoke rose smotheringly about him. 

Suddenly the door hanged back on its hinges 
and in the draft clouds of smoke eddied and 
whirled. 

“Grant!” It was Stewart’s voice. The 
anxious shout startled Grant into consciousness. 
He reached out a hand and caught at Stewart’s 
coat. Slipping an arm under him, Stewart stag- 
gered out into the cool, fresh air with Grant a 
dead weight, impeding every moment of their 
precious progress, the progress that must take 


188 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


take them away from that creeping tongue of 
flame and the dynamite. 

He dragged him on and on to the edge of the 
woods that bordered the lake. There he stopped, 
he could go no farther. As Grant slipped from his 
grasp to the snow covered ground, a wild roar 
echoed across the lake and back again, and seemed 
to split the very heavens. Stewart saw a cloud of 
smoke and flame shoot up from the lighthouse. 
The ground about him shook with the blast and 
great cracks ran crazily out into the ice of the 
lake. Where all had been solid ice a moment 
before a broad expanse of black water appeared, 
and gliding swiftly toward it with a speed that 
could not be diminished, and a direction that 
could not be veered, Stewart saw the iceboat with 
its helpless occupant, Stewart saw his men in the 
automobile a short distance behind the iceboat. 
He saw the driver jam on his brakes and saw the 
machine skid swiftly about in a flurry of ice and 
snow, just as the iceboat disappeared over the 
brink of ice into the cold blackness of the waters 
of the lake. 

He passed a hand over his face and turned 
back to Grant, who was staring up at him in be- 
wilderment. 

“What are you doing here?” Grant’s voice was 
scarcely a murmur. 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 189 

Stewart smiled and bent over him. “A girl 
gave me the tip — Dixie Mason. The girl with 
Von Lertz, you know.” 

Grant sat upright and stared at him. ‘‘Dixie 
Mason!” He rubbed his aching head. A wild 
conglomeration of ideas made his head whirl. 
Why had Dixie Mason done this? Had she too 
been working with the Germans for a purpose? 
Or had she simply allowed kindness to intervene 
in a plot which otherwise would have meant his 
death? His aching brain refused to solve the 
puzzle. 

Grasping Stewart’s hand he rose. 

“W e’d better go back,” he said simply, brush- 
ing the snow from his clothes, “Fay must be 
about ready to majke a full confession.” 

They walked to the bank of the lake and 
waited for the return of the operatives in the 
automobile. 

At the club they found Fay ready to make his 
confession. He had signalled his willingness to 
do so. 

“I was given 20,000 marks to come to Ameri- 
ca,” he said, “I was told to get in communication 
with German officials here — but they would not 
have anything to do with me. That is all I can 
tell you regarding them ” 

He stopped. The memory of another day had 


190 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


come to him — a room in an office building in 
lower New York, in Wall Street. The clamor of 
traffic and shouts of drivers echoing into a still 
room. Two men before him, hard, cunning, cal- 
culating. And the voice of one suavely suggest- 
ing: 

“Our positions demand that we must not be 
known as the directors of any movement of es- 
pionage against the United States — if your plan 
should fail and you should be arrested, we would 
of course be compelled to repudiate you. Like- 
wise it would be your duty to say that you had 
tried to see us but that we had denied you an 
interview.” 

His plot had failed, and Fay, true to the in- 
born traditions of his nationality, was sliielding 
those above him. But even as he realized that the 
end of his plotting was at hand, he knew that 
somehow, somewhere his work would he taken 
up. That the work of the German Government 
in undermining the peace of this nation would 
not stop with his failure, that its paid agents 
would take up the plotting and scheming and 
destruction where he had given it up. 

Fay told them what they already knew, the 
story of the bomb he had invented, the bomb 
which was to stop all shipping and which was 
eventually to be used to blow up the harbor of 


KAISER’S DEATH MESSENGER 191 

New York. He told them of his exploits in the 
trenches, of the fame he had earned for bombing 
expeditions successfully concluded, of the iron 
cross that should have been his but had gone to 
one higher in command, but no other word re- 
garding those others in this country who were 
backing him. 

While the members of the Criminology Club 
were listening to Fay’s confession, two men sat 
in a room of the Imperial German Embassy at 
Washington — Count Johann von Bernstorff and 
one other. Before them was a table littered with 
blue prints. That the plan they were discussing 
had been brought to a. high degree of practicabil- 
ity, the blue prints bore evidence. Fay, the pawn 
in the hands of those higher up, was forgotten, 
his effort overshadowed by a plan the magnitude 
of which was beyond his wildest dreams. Bern- 
storff laid a clenched fist heavily on the table. 

“It will be the greatest achievement Imperial 
Germany has yet brought about in America,” he 
said, and his visitor smiled. 

“And it will make America our unwilling 
aUy.” 


Chapter IX. 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 

The conference over the blue prints in Ambas- 
sador von Bernstorff’s rooms in Washington was 
followed by months of seeming inaction on the 
part of Germany’s paid agents. While war held 
its dreadful sway over Europe and armies bat- 
tled, some for right and in defense of a broken 
kingdom, the others for territory and conquest 
at the behest of a war-mad ruler, the manufac- 
ture of munitions for the ^varring nations and es- 
pecially the Allied armies received an impetus 
which started their humming with feverish ac- 
tivity. 

During this time the A. T. R. Munitions plant 
was erected near New York. Machinery of the 
latest type was installed, and experienced and 
competent labor employed. In the offices of the 
company, of which L. E. Marquis was president, 
long conferences were held with representatives 
of the French Government over plans received 
192 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 193 


from Paris calling for French “75’s” and “155’s” 
in unstinted numbers. French gold went into 
the safes of the company and French names were 
signed to the mortgages and various documents 
necessary to the fulfillment of contracts involv- 
ing millions of dollars and indirectly millions of 
lives. That Imperial Germany w^as linked with 
this industry in any way would have been unbe- 
lieveable, that the A. T. R. Munitions Company 
could he lending aid to Germany while manu- 
facturing arms for the French Army was incon- 
ceivable, to any but those acquainted with the 
depths of treachery to which it was possible for 
Imperial Germany to descend. 

The plans from Paris received the O. K. of 
the president of the company and its directors. 
They were given into the hands of one man — 
true, the company’s secretary — but the man who 
had conferred with Ambassador von BernstorflP 
in Washington, months before — J. S. Slakberg, 
smooth, suave, ingratiating, agent of the Im- 
perial German Government and its war-crazed 
Kaiser! 

A week or so after the final plans of the French 
Government had been approved by the directors 
of the Munitions works, Slakberg found occa- 
sion to call upon Captain Franz von Papen, Mili- 
tary Attache of the German Embassy in his of- 


194f 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

fice at 60 Wall Street, New York. That his 
visit was not unexpected was indicated by the ob- 
vious impatience with which the little group 
gathered in Von Papen’s office awaited his com- 
ing. About the polished table sat Captain Karl 
Boy-Ed, German Naval Attache, Dr. Heinrich 
Albert, Von Papen and Ambassador von Bern- 
storff. 

Brief greetings were exchanged at Slakberg’s 
entrance. No time was wasted in arriving at the 
gist of his business. 

“Your report on the A. T. R. factory?” 
queried Von Bernstorff. 

“Work has commenced at the A. T. R. Muni- 
tions works,” Slakberg* announced. 

“Yes?” The little group unconsciously 
awaited the rest of his report in tense silence. 

The silence of the room was now the silence of 
consternation. 

Over Von Bernstorff ’s countenance a look of 
anger blotted out the expression of puzzlement 
that had followed Slakberg’s announcement. 
Von Papen glared at the speaker. 

^'Himwel! For the French!” 

The sinister smile which disfigured Slakberg’s 
face did not waver. 

“Yes. For the French. I am doing all in my 
power to see that the shells reach their purchasers 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 195 

as quickly as possible. Wait a minute ’’ He 

waved a deprecating hand as Boy-Ed pushed his 
chair back and sprang to his feet angrily. ‘T 
liave done exactly as I planned to do. I have 
changed the plans of the shells. Employees of 
the A. T. R. Munitions works are now laboring 
night and day to produce shells that will be sold 
to the French Government — but the shells will 
fit only German guns!” He glanced around 
triumphantly. “Is my report approved?” 

Smiles of satisfaction swept about the group. 
Von Bernstorff extended his hand. 

“It is good work, Slakberg, and will mean 
great things.” 

Slakberg smiled smugly. “Greater perhaps 
than your Excellency imagines,” he answered. 
“In the first place, it will deprive the French of 
some million shells of various sizes upon which 
they are depending. In the second place it 
breaks the entire embargo which the British have 
placed about Germany.” 

“But how did you accomplish it?” 

“As soon as the plans were signed, they were 
turned over to me for safe-keeping,” he smiled. 
“I have put them where they will be safe — for- 
ever, I tore them up. Then I placed in the safe 
in their stead the plans which were sent me from 
Berlin, drawn to the scale of German guns of 


196 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


nearly the same calibre. I forged the necessary 
signatures and acknowledgments. It was very 
simple. It is impossible that they suspect any- 
thing wrong. So now,” he concluded, “those 
shells will be rushed to the French front at the 
earliest possible dates. They will be hoarded for 
the big French drive. So I learned in confer- 
ence. The French drive will turn into a German 
drive. The French will try to use the shells. 
They will not fit. They will have to fall back. 
Our men will rush forward. In the hasty retreat 
the French will be compelled to leave the am- 
munition behind. The rest will be simple. Im- 
perial Germany will bring up her guns to find 
ammunition of all calibres waiting for them. 
Ammunition made in America, paid for by 
France, shipped in spite of British interference 
and embargoes — for Germany!” 

Slakberg regarded his audience, complacently, 
pleased at the evidences of pleasure they dis- 
played. 

During his .recital Von Papen had reached for 
a check book. And now with its hastily inked 
signature scarcely dry he handed a check to Slak- 
berg. 

“In token of our Fatherland’s esteem,” he 
smiled. 

The conference, supremely satisfactory to 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 197 

those who had shared its secrets, ended. It had 
a double sequel however. 

Von Lertz, Germany's unofficial man of all 
work was still captive to the charms of Dixie 
Mason and still ignorant that she was of the 
Secret Service and assigned to the work of gain- 
ing all information possible by means of her 
feminine wiles. Yon Lertz, with characteristic 
egotism, failed to realize that he was but a tool 
in her hands. The afternoon following the con- 
ference in Von Papen's office, he called upon her. 

Dixie winsomely made him welcome. Mamette, 
with white teeth shining out of the dusky black- 
ness of her face, relieved him of his overcoat. 
And in his joy at being in Miss Mason’s pres- 
ence once more. Von Lertz carelessly neglected 
to remove from his overcoat pocket a report he 
had brought for Dr. Albert. Over his shoulder 
Dixie nodded meaningly to Mamette, the faith- 
ful. The negro maid, coached by Dixie, had be- 
come almost indispensable in the carrying out 
of Dixie’s schemes to successful climaxes. Von 
Lertz’s coat, taken carefully into an alcove off 
the hall was hung up carefully — after Mamette 
had removed the report from the pocket. And 
the report was carefully replaced in the pocket 
after Mamette in painful scrawls had copied its 
message. 


198 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

As soon as the door had closed behind Von 
Lertz, Dixie hurriedly scanned the copy which 
Mamette proudly handed her. 

It’s notation read: 

“Report for Dr. Albert. 

“Everything is working out to our satisfac- 
tion at the A. T. R. Munitions factory. 

“J. s\ S.” 

“Oh, Mamette,” Dixie called after studying 
the report for a moment or twa “Get me out 
some clothes to wear. I’m going to the A. T. R. 
Munitions factory to look for employment. 
Hurry!” 

German efficiency had .tripped itself again. It 
had not been enough for Dr. Heinrich Albert to 
receive in person the report of J. S. Slakberg in 
the offices of Captain von Papen. It had not 
been enough that months before he had lost a 
portfolio containing hundreds of just such 
papers as this — a portfolio which had allowed the 
Secret Service to block the schemes of Imperial 
Germany in a dozen different directions through- 
out the United States. To the spies of Imperial 
Germany the Americans were only “Idiotic 
Yankees,” not capable of understanding or 
fathoming the machinations of Germany, and so 
the reports continued to he in writing with the 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 199 

result that now Dixie Mason was profiting by 
one and was preparing to start for the A. T. II. 
Munitions works in search of employment — and 
incidentally all the information she could pos- 
sibly pick up. 

The calm of the recent months had not de- 
ceived the Secret Service. To them it was hut 
the treacherous calm of a sea after a storm. 
Smooth and disarming on its surface, but under- 
neath the boiling of the undertow. 

The second sequel of Slakberg’s visit to the of- 
fice of Von Papen was the result of a similar slip 
by Imperial Germany. Its opening scene was 
laid in the office of the Criminology Club a day 
or so after Slakberg’s visit. 

Grant was hastily running over the afternoon 
paper. Near him lounged Stewart and Cava- 
naugh.. 

“Anything doing?” asked Stewart lazily, nip- 
ping the end from a cigar and preparing to light 
it. 

Grant shook his head in negation. “Nothing 
much. The A. T. R. Munitions Company have 
started work on a big war order for France. 
J. S. Slakberg, secretary of the company says 
that all records are to be broken for production.” 
He paused with a puzzled expression. “Slak- 
berg” he repeated turning to the operatives. 


200 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


“Have you heard that name before?” 

“Not I,” said Cavanaugh, from the depths of 
the leather lounge. 

“Not guilty,” said Stewart. 

“Well I have, but I can’t remember now just 
where.” Grant’s reflections were interrupted by 
a knock on the door. “See who’s there will you, 
Stewart?” 

The door was opened to admit a young man of- 
business-like appearance. 

“Good evening, Mr. Grant. I’m the cashier 
of the Bank.” 

Grant motioned him to sit down but he de- 
clined. “No, I won’t stay, my errand will just 
take a moment. If you will remember, some 
time ago you asked us to allow you to see any 
checks that Franz von Papen issued on our bank. 
Here is one that I think will interest you.” He* 
slipped a check from his pocket and handed it to 
Grant. 

“To J. S. Slakberg,” Grant read. “Five thou- 
sand dollars!” 

“There’s your Slakberg again,” observed 
Cavanaugh. 

“Yes,” said Grant, slowly studying the en- 
dorsement of the check. “Now I’ve got him. Or 
at least his writing. He’s the same merry little 
forger we trailed all the way from Chicago to 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 201 

Berlin on the Weymouth case — and then they re- 
fused extradition. Call a taxi. I’m going to the 
A. T. R. plant.” 

Work at the A. T. R. Munition plant was 
booming. Slakberg had cause for satisfaction 
as he stood in the doorway of one of the shell 
loading rooms watching the trucks loaded with 
shells rumbling past. And the room was filled 
with the rumble and roar of activity as men and 
women worked at high speed, pitiably ignorant 
that they were laboring in reality not for France 
but for scheming, conniving, treacherous Ger- 
many. 

As a rack of shells clattered past him, Slak- 
berg’s thin lips curled back in a smile of satisfac- 
tion. “Poor fools,” he muttered, “they think 
they are working for France.” He rubbed his 
hands and turned away. “But for Germany — 
and they don’t know it.” 

He crossed the factory yard to the power house 
and entered its semi-darkness, peering about. No 
one was in sight, but at his low whistle a figure 
emerged from behind a dim hulk of machinery 
and came toward him. It was the chief elec- 
trician. 

Slakberg bent toward him with a leer. “How’s 
the safety contrivance working?” he asked. The 


202 THE EAGLE’S EYE 
electrician stared at him for a moment and then 
laughed. 

“Oh you meant the sparker — to blow up the 
plant?” 

“Careful,” warned Slakberg, “and only if 
necessary, always remember that.” 

“Certainly, I know that, only if necessary,” 
the electrician repeated as though the words were 
part of a lesson he had been compelled to memo- 
ize. “As long as we can keep the plant running 
along the lines it is running now, everything is 
fine — that’s right isn’t it?” 

“Quite right, but if anything happens, any 
trouble blows up and Von Papen says the plant 
must go, we must be prepared.” 

“You can count on me.” The electrician held 
out an instrument resembling the spark plug of 
an automobile. “This is all we need. I’ve con- 
nected a dead wire in the loading room to this 
switch. If the plant is to be blown up, all that 
will be necessary will be for me to put this plug 
in a light socket in that room, then come back 
here and throw the switch. The minute the 
switch is thrown a streak of fire will shoot out 
from the spark plug. It will ignite the explosive 
dust with which the room is filled. The factory 
will be blown to pieces.” 

Slakberg smiled appreciatively. A moment 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 203 


later he left the power house. The building in 
which were the offices stood some distance from 
the factory. He followed the gravelled pathway 
to his office and there, after closing the door care- 
fully, went to the safe and pulled out a roll of 
blue prints. They were the specifications for the 
shells now being turned out by the factory. To 
him they meant the destruction perhaps of the 
French Army. He started nervously from his 
revery as an office boy entered. 

“Mr. Slakberg, Mr. Marquis wants to see you 
and says for you to bring the plans.” 

Slakberg picked up the plans and followed 
the boy slowly out. The request was a little un- 
usual and a shadow of fear crossed his face as 
he entered the office of the president. A moment 
later he was looking into the inquiring eyes of 
Harrison Grant and the fear had returned to his 
face to stay. Grant’s steely eyes stared into the 
shifty eyes below him seeking to evade his look. 
“Do not trouble to introduce us,” Grant said 
slowly to Mr. Marquis who had risen, “I think 
Mr. Slakberg and I have met before. In case 
he does not remember the occasion I will seek to 
call it to his memory later. Just now Slakberg, 
I would like those plans — in the pame of the 
Secret Service.” Slakberg seemed/to shrivel up 
before him. An ashy pallor sweM his face. He 


204 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


tried to smile jauntily but the pitiable effort was 
distorted into a snarl. 

The sudden convulsive movement with which 
he gripped the plans with the evident intention 
of destroying them was thwarted as Grant 
caught his wrist in a paralyzing grip and re- 
moved them from his limp hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Slakberg,” he remarked 
calmly. “Perhaps you can explain a few little 
points about these plans to Mr. Marquis and my- 
self. As I understand it these plans were drawn 
in Paris?” 

“Yes — yes, of course,” Slakberg returned 
somewhat weakly. 

“And naturally they have been in your posses- 
sion all the time?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Then,” Harrison Grant raised his voice a 
little, “I must say, Mr. Slakberg, alias Curly, 
alias Weasel, that while you’ve done a very good 
little job of forgery here, you’ve forgotten one 
rather strong point. Will you please put on 
your hat and coat and come to the Criminology 
Club with Mr. Marquis and myself? I would 
like you to explain there just how these particu- 
larly Parisian plans happen to be made on parch- 
ment bearing a Berlin watermark!” 

Slakberg’s only answer was a desperate rush 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 205 


for the door, the success of which was speedily 
deterred by Grant and Marquis. Plis impo- 
tent curses faded into silence again as Grant 
drew out a pair of handcuffs and dangled them 
before him. 

‘Tt’s a bit cold out,” Grant said quietly. 
Would you like handcuffs?” 

Slakberg scowled. “I’ll go peaceably.” 

So meekly did he submit to his enforced de- 
parture that although Grant saw him draw a 
cigar from his pocket, bite it off and then throw 
it away as though it were distasteful to him, he 
paid little attention to the action. The cigar rolled 
along the gravelled pathway and stopped near 
the door of the power house. In the doorway 
lounged the electrician. As Grant and Marquis 
and their captive disappeared around the corner 
the electrician picked up the discarded cigar. 

Dixie Mason had been working in the factory 
since early afternoon as shell loader. The table 
at which she worked was near a window overlook- 
ing the factory yard. The events of the last 
afternoon had not escaped her. She had watched 
the departure of Slakberg with Harrison Grant 
and a feeling of relief that unconsciously she was 
being helped had stolen over her. But though 
Grant attached no importance to the cigar Slak- 


206 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


berg had tossed aside, Dixie from her point of 
vantage soon was given the opportunity to. 

Scarcely had the men disappeared around the 
corner of the building when she saw the electri- 
cian emerge from the doorway, and pick up the 
cigar. The act was natural and Dixie ordinarily 
would have thought nothing of it. Now her gaze 
hung on him curiously and then brightened into 
interest as she saw him break the cigar open. 
Something white appeared as the carefully wrap- 
ped weed was broken apart. She saw the elec- 
trician unroll a tiny slip of paper, read it hurried- 
ly and then crumple it up. 

Dixie, to all appearances overcome by sudden 
illness, left the loading room, slipped out of the 
door and across the yard to the power house. 
The electrician was gone but where he had stood 
was a tiny slip of crumpled paper which Dixie 
snatched at eagerly and read as she hurried out 
of the building. It contained three words. 

“Warn Von Papen.” 

Dixie Mason did not return to the loading 
room. Instead she took up the trail of the disap- 
pearing electrician. She saw him enter a saloon. 
In a nearby drug store she induced the operator 
to put her on the same line just in time to hear 
the electrician receive orders to go to the hill on 
the edge of the town when darkness fell. Dixie 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 207 

waited feverishly for events to resume their 
progress. She did not know that in the Crim- 
inology Club they had Slakberg surrounded with 
the evidences of liis guilt and his cross exam- 
ination begun. All Dixie knew was that the 
electrician had been told to warn Von Papen and 
had been ordered to await further instructions 
on the hill at the edge of the town. 

The day faded into dusk and the dusk into 
darkness. The lights from the munition factory 
blazed out into the night as the new shift took up 
its duties. At last Dixie saw the electrician 
emerge from the saloon. She took up the trail, 
a trail that seemed never-ending as he walked 
on and on away from the town. They came to a 
freight yard. Out of the darkness above the 
freight yard a liill loomed against the sky. The 
electrician stopped, and Dixie sought shelter very 
near him by a lumber pile. The night was very 
dark but suddenly the sky was lighted by a series 
of flashes. ' In their brightness, Dixie could see 
the electrician standinng with pencil and paper in 
hand. The flashes stopped and the electrician 
moved over to a switch light which gleamed with 
red eye into the surrounding blackness. He was 
examining the paper closely by the dim light. The 
rumble of an approaching freight train broke the 
silence. The electrician tossed the paper aside 


208 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


and glanced up the track toward the slowly near- 
ing engine and its string of box cars. Dixie saw 
liim hurry up the track and she guessed his pur- 
pose. He was about to catch this train back to 
town. 

The train passed and in the dim light she dis- 
cerned his figure clinging to the side of a car. 
Then she hurried to the switch light and picked 
up the scrap of paper he had thrown aside. By 
the light she saw a series of Morse code dots and 
dashes which she translated: 

“Blow up the factory at once!” 

This was the message he had been told to re- 
ceive ! And he had gone to carry out its orders ! 
Dixie racked her mind desperately for ideas. 
She must get back at once, or get a message. 
But how? There was no telephone near. No 
means of getting back. The train lumbering off 
into the darkness was now gaining speed every 
moment. 

She remembered passing a motor service sta- 
tion down the road. If she could reach that she 
might still be able to interfere with the electri- 
cian’s orders. She would telephone back to the 
factory — ^to Harrison Grant! One idea after 
another flew through her mind as she hurried over 
the endless labyrinth of tracks and down the 
rough road, but when she reached the little build- 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 209 

ing, to her breathless inquiries the keeper shook 
his head. “No telephone here/’ he said, “there’s 
one about a mile down the road.” 

“But I’ve got to get word back to town some- 
how,” Dixie urged desperately. He shook his 
head as though dismissing the subject. 

Then Dixie brought out her Secret Service 
Commission. 

“Let me have a motorcycle, quick,” she 
ordered. The man visibly impressed hurried in- 
.side. 

A moment later he had brought out a motor- 
cycle and was holding it in position. 

Dixie clambered up on it. Slipping a bill into 
the man’s hand she waved good-bye and amid a 
swirl of dust disappeared down the road. The 
throbbing of her engine grew steadier as with a 
•set purpose she rushed on in the blackness to her 
errand of salvation. 

While Dixie Mason sped over the dark and 
tortuous passes of the road to town; while the 
electrician she was seeking to outwit was being 
carried to the fulfillment of his evil intent by 
the freight train to which he clung, Harrison 
Grant and the president of the munitions works 
were listening to Slakberg’s confession, wrung 
at last from him by a series of cleverly tendered 
questions. As in the past he had entrapped 


210 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


others, so the spy was being entrapped. His 
very simple plan, worked out so carefully and 
seemingly flawless, had rebounded to trip him 
up. He had worked out every detail, had forged 
perfectly, had overlooked nothing as he had 
thought, to be at last betrayed by the innocent 
appearing watermark of the parcliment. 

He was breaking down under the strain of the 
cross examination. Reluctantly the details had 
been wrung from him. 

“We wanted munitions. We didn’t care howi 
we got them. If we could make America our un- 
willing ally, we were more than glad to do it. 
We knew that if we could get these shells to the 
Western front they would be saved for the 
French drive. And we knew that just as surely 
as that drive came, it would fail and our soldiers 
would rush through the French lines without 
danger from barrage to find the shells waiting for 
them — to open the way to Paris!” He stopped 
with a gasp. 

They waited but he did not resume his talk. 

“Is that all?” Grant interrogated. 

Slakberg’s gaze shifted. 

“Yes, that is all,” he lied painfully. 

Grant turned to the president of the A. T. R. 
“Mr. Marquis, is your car downstairs?” 

Marquis nodded. 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 211 


‘‘Good. We must get to the factory at once. 
The extent of this plot must be investigated. 
The shipment of shells must be stopped. America 
shall not be made party to such a crime as this!” 

The freight train was bearing the electrician 
to his destination. It had reached the munition 
factory, and in the darkness he dropped from it 
and hurried to the power house. Near the door- 
way on a table lay a pile of electric light bulbs. 
He picked up a handful and sauntered across the 
yard and into the main loading room on an er- 
rand conspicuously innocent in appearance. But 
in his pocket was the tiny sparker which when 
affixed meant destruction of lives and property, 
the death or injury of the hundreds of women 
who worked about him innocent of the danger 
that hung over them. 

He removed a globe from a socket and slipped 
in another. Several globes were replaced. At 
last he unscrewed a globe and in its place slipped 
the little sparker. His actions were unobtrusive. 
He glanced hastily around. No one noticed him 
or guessed at his errand, for the shell loaders 
were all intent on their work and the filling of 
the great order which had just come. Picking 
up the remaining globes he passed down the 
length of the room and out into the cool night 
air, toward the power house. 


212 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

The buzz of a motorcycle being raced at high 
speed jarred on the quiet of the yard outside the 
factory. The electrician cast an annoyed glance in 
the direction of the rider. The machine stopped 
in front of the power house and Dixie Mason 
slipped from the seat. She saw the electrician 
cast a hurried glance at her over his shoulder and 
she hesitated. Was she too late to stop him from 
carrying out his plan whatever it was? Could 
she stop him? An attempt to stop the spy might 
fail, but she could at least warn the people of 
their danger. 

She ran into the building. Past long lines of 
workers she dashed screaming in a shrill voice 
that echoed above the roar of machinery: 

“Out! Out! Everybody!” 

The workers, ever conscious of the hazards 
under which they labored and alert for the slight- 
est token of danger, left their work tables and 
rushed for exits, taking up the cry as they passed 
other workers. Dixie seeing that her warning was 
being obeyed ran back to the power house. The 
yard was filled with hurrying, shrieking, excited 
women. The electrician at the sound of shouting 
and confusion had stepped to the door. As he 
saw Dixie rushing toward him, he knew the suc- 
cess of his plans was frustrated. 

He turned quickly to the switch. At the same 




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. I * 







THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 213 

moment, Dixie, knowing intuitively that this was 
his plan of destruction, threw her slight body at 
him and clung to him with a catlike tenacity, 
striving to stay the hand that was reaching for 
the switch. With a curse his great hand closed 
around her throat. Still she struggled but he 
held her now at a distance and leaned forward. 
She heard the switch jammed shut with a crack- 
ling contact. A second later the darkness with- 
out was pierced by a wild burst of flames, and the 
earth heaved and rocked with the impact of an 
earthquake. But Dixie Mason heard it only 
vaguely. She had fainted and was lying against 
the switch, one hand still in unconsciousness 
clinging to it as though the hope yet lived that 
she could prevent the awful catastrophe that had 
fallen. 

Through the clouds of dust and smoke, 
through the crowds of injured workers, through 
debris piled high from which little tongues of 
flame w^ere shooting, Harrison Grant reached the 
power house. 

When Dixie returned to consciousness it was 
to find him bending over her. For one glad 
moment she recognized him. 

She struggled to rise. “You!” she said, but 
Grant’s voice, cold and unfriendly, dispelled the 
hopes that had risen within her. 


214 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

“Yes. Miss Mason, I’m afraid you will have a 
somewhat difficult time in explaining your pres- 
ence here beside the switch that has blown up the 
factory.” 

In spite of weakness Dixie straightened up. 
Her lips parted and she reached involuntarily 
toward the pocket that held her Secret Service 
Commission. But the impulse was checked, for 
the orders she had received months before flashed 
through her throbbing brain: 

“Work into the trust of the Germans. Tell 

no one. 

“W. J. Flynn.” 

“Why do you accuse me?” she asked. 

“Miss Mason, what else could one do? We 
arrive in time to see the explosion, the workers 
running out, and ” 

Dixie leaned forward. 

“The workers, are they safe?” she asked 
eagerly. 

“Most of them. Some are injured. I am glad 
you at least warned them.” 

“Thank you. Now would you mind releasing 
my hand?” 

Grant looked at her in wonder. Would he 
ever fathom this mystery girl? Could it be pos- 
sible that he had made a mistake? But in con- 
traversion to this thought came the memory of 


THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 215 

her constant association with the Germans most 
active in promoting the interests of their govern- 
ment; her frequent appearances with Von Lertz 
and Madam Stephan. And what possible motive 
could have brought her to this scene and placed 
her in such a situation? 

“Miss Mason, I can say nothing except that 
a watchman told me of having seen a girl run- 
ning toward the power house a moment before the 
explosion came. I must put you under arrest. 
The evidence is absolute and I can do nothing 
else.” 

Dixie opened her lips, but the words were not 
spoken. 

The sharp report of a gunshot put an end to 
their conversation. The sound of a low cry drifted 
in — then silence. 

Grant stepped to the door and then hesitated. 

“I’m very sorry Miss Mason,” he said reaching 
in his pocket, “but I’m afraid this is necessary.” 
Something glittered in his hands and Dixie heard 
the metallic clink of handcuffs. “I must see what 
is wrong outside^ — and I must be assured that 
you will remain here until I return.” 

Dixie held out her hands in silence. He snap- 
ped one manacle about her wrist. A strange 
sort of wonder possessed him that he should be 
thus shackling the hands of the girl who had so 


216 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


fascinated him in the past. She stood quietly 
while he attached the other cuff to the swinging 
door of the switchboard railing and then hurried 
outside. 

Two hundred yards away stood a watchman 
and at his feet lay the body of a man. 

As Grant reached his side the watchman re- 
ported briefly. 

‘T saw this fellow sneaking around. When I 
called to him to halt he started to run, so I shot.” 

Grant searched the body hastily with the help 
of his pocket flash and brought out the card of 
a German reservist. 

It was enough. Imperial Germany had scored 
again, and in the usual manner, with death to 
innocent beings and appalling destruction of 
property. 

He turned again to the power house where he 
had left his fair prisoner, but on the threshold he 
stopped in astonishment. 

The power house was empty! One handcuff 
hung on the gate of the switchboard. A rubber 
glove lay on the floor. The other handcuff of the 
pair was gone and with it Dixie Mason! 


Chapter X. 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 

Harrison Grant carried home with him that 
night the vision of a handcuff, its metal seared 
through by the electric current, hanging empty 
by the switch in the power house. A potpourri of 
emotions seethed through his mind. A feeling of 
distaste that one who was, in all outward appear- 
ances, so square and true, so refined, should lend 
her cleverness to the furtherance of German 
plots, mingled with his feeling of personal dis- 
appointment. He owned frankly, to himself, 
that he did not want Dixie Mason to be anything 
but as good and true as she was beautiful, that 
he had wanted her so because — he had cared for 
her. But any such feeling was impossible now. 
She had proved it. Her apparent friendliness 
with the German element was born of co-part- 
nership in their crimes ; her interest in Von Lertz 
had come through the fact that she, too, was a 
co-worker in Imperial Germany’s great game of 
murder, a co-plotter in the destruction of Ameri- 
can industries, American peace of mind, Ameri- 
217 


218 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

can lives! He could see no alternative but that 
he should blot out this love for her that had 
grown in spite of him, and once more register a 
report against her. 

Early the next morning he made his report 
at the chief’s office. 

“We will investigate the charge,” he was as- 
sured. “You need concern yourself no further 
with it.” The similarity of the announcement to 
those following his other reports of Dixie Mason 
jarred strangely on Grant. He could not fathom 
the mystery of events unless — a subtle hope sud- 
denly sprang into existence. Could it be possible 
that there was some good reason for her activities, 
other than interest in the Germans? Might it 
be that the main office was holding information 
from him that would explain it all? Grant pur- 
sued this line of reasoning because it held out a 
hope for him and removed the cause of his dis- 
trust for Dixie Mason. But once more it brought 
him up against a blank wall of useless conjec- 
tures. 

If Dixie Mason had been in the Secret Ser- 
vice, she would have told him so in the power 
house instead of allowing him to think her a Ger- 
man spy, arrest her, and then put her to the 
trouble and danger of freeing herself by such 
precarious means. If the arrest had gone 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 219 

through, and she had been a member of the Ser- 
vice, she would have had to tell everything about 
herself later, so why not in the beginning? More 
than that, what possible reason could there be 
for her to conceal her affiliation with the Service 
— if she were in it? 

All of which goes to prove how futile is the 
attempt of one mind to reason as another would. 
For there had been several reasons why Dixie 
Mason concealed her connection with the Secret 
Service. The first and biggest was her order from 
the Chief that she work herself into the confidence 
of those highest in Germany’s spy system in the 
United States, and that she tell no one of her 
connection with the Secret Service. Another 
very good reason for her not revealing her true 
status to Grant flashed into her mind as she stood 
at the switchboard listening to Grant’s accusa- 
tion that she had been instrumental in causing the 
destruction of the A. T. R. Munitions works. 
If it had been so simple a thing for Grant to be- 
lieve, why could she not convince Von Lertz and 
his German friends that she had done this thing 
wffiich would mean so much to them, and so lay 
the foundation for a confidence which would help 
her obtain their secrets by established right? It 
was a good idea. 

The night of her disappearance from the 


220 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

power house she called Von Lertz on the tele- 
phone. 

“Can you come to my apartment, soon? At 
once if possible. It is very important. And 
please bring a sharp file with you — yes rather 
large — I’ll explain — Thank you — Good-bye.” 

She hung up the receiver with a triumphant 
smile. The smile lingered as she deliberated on 
the events of the evening. She was very tired, 
but she must bring this latest affair to a success- 
ful close. The opportunity was too great to pass 
by. 

She heard shortly the sound of Von Lertz’s 
car drawn up to the curb and a few moments 
later the bell of the apartment rang. She ran 
to open it herself, and, as Von I^ertz entered, she 
held up laughingly a little hand about whose 
wi’ist dangled one manacle of a pair of handcuffs. 

“Now you know what I wanted the file for. 
Will you help me take it off?” She seated her- 
self on a low stool beside the great armchair into 
which Von Lertz threw himself with easy fami- 
liarity. 

“Take it off and I will tell you all about it. 
It’s a long, long story, and I’m tired and when 
I get through I think you will agree with me that 
I have a right to be tired.” With quick interest 
Von Lertz bent over the little wrist with its 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 221 

strange adornment, and as Dixie in low tones 
told her story. Von Lertz filed away at the 
manacle. 

‘‘The electrician mistook me for Madam 
Stephan, I think. I was standing by the power 
house and he came running past, followed by the 
chief watchman.’’ She stopped meditatively. 
“Do you think I look like Madam Stephan?” 

Von Lertz glanced up impatiently. “Hardly, 
to one who knows you, you are both dark. But 
the story. What happened then?” 

“Oh, yes,” Dixie, obediently and naively took 
up the tale convinced that she was really inter- 
esting him. “I was standing there and he called. 
>I ran into the power house and threw the switch. 
Then there was this awful explosion and the 
whole plant went up in smoke and flame. The 
watchman ran in and arrested me. When some- 
one called him out he handcuffed me to the gate. 
I saw a rubber glove in the electrician’s box and 
I put it on. Then I pulled the handcuff over the 
switch and it melted and I got away, but I took 
one with me.” 

Dixie paused for breath and gazed at him soul- 
fully out of great dark eyes, doubting for an in- 
stant her ability as a romancer. 

Von Lertz stopped filing for a moment and 


222 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


gazed at her in admiration. If he had any doubts, 
the handcuff had convinced him. 

‘‘Poor little girl! But that was great work. 
Why, you are a little heroine. Ah, if I had only 
trusted you before, what wonderful things you 
might have been doing for Imperial Germany 
with your cleverness and willingness to be of ser- 
vice.” With a final chilling rasp the file was 
applied to the steel once more and slipped 
through the link. “There, that’s off. Tomor- 
row morning we will go to Captain von Papen’s 
office, you and I, and tell him of your wonderful 
exploit.” 

Dixie smiled. “It’s very kind of yoU, and I 
will be glad to go.” Just how glad she did not 
go into details to tell him. Her plans were work- 
ing out too well. 

Von Lertz called for her very early the next 
morning. Dixie thrilled with the excitement of 
the experience she was about to have as his car 
threaded its way down the long lanes of traffic 
into lower New York and the canyons of Wall 
Street where Von Papen’s office was located. 

She found Madam Stephan, Germany’s 
greatest woman spy, there, and Captain Boy-Ed, 
the Naval Attache. And when Von Lertz had 
told of her great exploit, had gone over all the 
details as she had told him the night before, Dixie 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 223 

had to tell it all over again for them herself, while 
they laughed and congratulated her on her brav- 
ery and her devotion to the interests of the gov- 
ernment they represented. 

“You are wonderful, my dear,” Madam 
Stephan assured her when Dixie protested that 
it was but a little tiling she had done. “We can 
find many things that your great ability can help 
us to do.” Dixie artlessly and very truthfully 
avowed she hoped they would give her the oppor- 
tunity. When, shortly, Boy-Ed and Madam 
Stephan departed, Dixie strolled to the window 
while Von Papen and Von Lertz conversed in 
low tones, at the table. Since entering the room 
she had been conscious of the open desk near the 
window, littered with papers. Now as she stood 
at the window ostensibly for the purpose of gaz- 
ing curiously over the tall buildings, she glanced 
at a letter, evidently tossed aside hastily 

“Your Excellency:” the letter ran in Ger- 
man, “Dr. Albert and myself today took up 
your suggestion of an invasion of Canada with 
Count von Bernstorff. While he believes that 
the enterprise would be an exceedingly danger- 
ous one and that we should use every precau- 
tion to prevent the Secret Service from charg- 
ing us with any part in it, should it fail, there 


224 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


is reason to believe that such an enterprise 
would meet with a great measure of success. 

‘T reported to him that our plan included 
the raiding of all important points of Canada 
possessing military stores, such as Windsor, 
Montreal, Winnipeg, Regina, Port Hope and 
other centers, the demoralization of which 
would mean great delay in the sending over- 
seas of large expeditionary forces on the part 
of Great Britain. 

“B. asked what had been done and I told 
him that arms already had been stored in six 
sections, assembling at Silver Creek, Mich., 
there to seize the Welland Canal, Wind Mill 
Point, Mich., Wilson, N. Y., adjacent to Port 
Hope, Can., ‘Watertown, N. Y., near Kings- 
ton, Can., Detroit, near Windsor, Can., Corn- 
wall, N. Y., from which easy possession can 
be made of Ottawa, Can., and at Exeter. 

‘Tt is at Exeter, as I explained to B., that 
everything must be done now, inasmuch as 
arms and reservists are available for all the 
other stations. However, as you told me to 
explain, I showed B. that all efforts must now 
be centered on Exeter, and that Von Lertz 
and Madam Stephen should leave at once to 
represent us in the final work which will im- 
mediately precede the invasion. 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 225 

“In this connection, might I suggest to you 
that this be done at once, as more than 100,000 
reservists throughout the United States will 
shortly receive their orders to move toward the 
border in as inconspicuous a manner as possi- 
ble, and that everything should be awaiting 
them when they arrive. Otherwise, we fail. 
Dr. Albert and myself will attend to the ship- 
ment of arms by the usual method. 

“B. E.” 

Efficiency again — efficiency in the shape of an- 
other written report from one office to another, 
in the stolid, plodding desire of Imperial Ger- 
many to see that every step of its murderous 
progress was arranged for and made clear to 
those in whose hands the trend of events lay. 

This time it had made clear one of its plots to 
Dixie Mason of the Secret Service! 

Across the top of the letter, in Von Papen’s 
scrawling hand, had been written: 

“Von Lertz and Stephan. . .10:20, N. Y. C. 
“N. Y. C.” New York Central, of course, and 
they were leaving at 10 :20! Dixie glanced at her 
watch. It wajs a quarter after nine. She had 
wondered at the extreme earliness of Von Lertz’s 
visit. Now she knew. He must catch that train. 
There were things she must do, too. Suddenly 


226 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

she caught at the window frame and gave a little 
moan. 

Von Lertz looked up in time to see her slide 
limply to the floor in a faint. He rushed to her 
and picking up her unconscious form laid her on 
the long leather lounge that stood at one side of 
the room. 

‘‘Call a taxi and send her home,” Von Papen 
ordered sharply, as Von Lertz rubbed her life- 
less wrists. 

“No, I’ll take her home. She will be all right 
in a moment. Poor little girl, she had a hard day 
of it yesterday.” 

“But the time!” Von Papen looked at his 
watch. “You have less than an hour and you 
must get that 10:20 train, and there are matters 
to be gone over before you leave.” 

“I’ll be back all right. Don’t worry,” Von 
Lertz’s efforts to bring Dixie back to conscious- 
ness were meeting with success. With bewilder- 
ed eyes she sat up and looked around her, then 
smiling weakly, she staggered to her feet. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized softly, “I don’t 
know what made me do such a silly thing. I 
must have been tired out from everything I did 
yesterday. Can you take me home?” 

Von Lertz smiled down upon her reassuringly 
as he held her coat for her. Dixie bade Von 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 227 

Papen good-bye, very sweetly and graciously. 
That Von Papen’s farewell was somewhat short 
and a little impatient was due to the fear lurk- 
ing in his mind that Von Lertz would not make 
that 10:20 train. But defying aU laws defiable 
and conforming as little as possible to the in- 
exorable ones. Von Lertz drove Dixie uptown 
and left her in her apartment a short time later. 

‘And don’t worry about me — please,” Dixie 
begged giving him her hand in good-bye, “because 
I’ll be all right. If I don’t I’ll take a little trip, 
down south maybe, for a week or two.” 

“I may be out of town myself for a while, so 
if I don’t call ” 

“I’ll understand,” Dixie assured him, with per- 
fect verity. “Good-bye.” 

As the door closed behind him, Dixie jumped 
to her feet with a sudden access of energy. 

“Goodness. I’ll have to hurry like every- 
thing"' she told herself. 

She sat down at her desk and began to scrib- 
ble hurriedly on a scrap of paper. Between lines 
she called to Mamette. 

“Mamette! Mamette! Where are you? 
Hurry!” Mamette appeared in the doorway 
wiping her hands on her apron. 

“Yes’m, Miss Dixie.” 

‘T have just about half an hour. I want you 


228 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

to go down the street in that old second hand 
store and buy me the articles on this list of cloth- 
ing.” 

She handed Mamette the list and some money. 
Mamette seized them and hurried out. Dixie 
turned again to her desk and scrawled a letter 
which two hours later was delivered to Harrison 
Grant at the Criminology Club by special de- 
livery. It added another jot to the mystification 
which had been lending zest to his life the last 
few days. The letter read : 

“Have 'notified the Chief of German con- 
centration camps along the border prepara- 
tory to invasion of Canada. Hold yourself in 
readiness for a big raid on German head- 
quarters at Exeter. Will keep you informed 
under name of Randolph Bruce. 

“Operative 324.” 

Grant turned to his card index of Secret Ser- 
vice operatives and hurriedly skimmed through 
the file. 

“Operative 324,” he slipped out the card and 
stared at it in irritation. The card bore no name, 
no address, no photograph, no thumbprints, no 
identification, simply the legend: 

“Operative 324 — Name and identification 
withheld for good of service.” 

Grant frowned, and then philosophically slip- 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 229 

ped the card back into its place and stepped 
toward the button to summon his operatives. 

In a moment Stewart, Cavanaugh and Sisson 
joined him. 

‘‘Boys, there is a chance of heavy work for the 
Criminology Club very soon. We will have to 
summon every member possible w^ho can leave 
his other duties. They must eat here, sleep here, 
wait here, until certain word comes to us.’’ 
Grant glanced down at the message which he still 
held. “Stewart!” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Will you see what arrangements can be made 
for a special train to take a hundred men to Exe- 
ter, Vermont, if necessary? Keep it quiet, of 
course. Sisson!” Grant looked at the two other 
men. “And you, Cavanaugh, round up the other 
members. And if any telegrams come to the 
club signed Randolph .Bruce, find me at once!” 

After Grant had issued his orders the Crim- 
inology Club became the scene of action as its 
members gathered, eager for the service they held 
themselves in readiness at all times to tender. 

Hours after Grant had received the message 
from Operative 324, a train which had left New 
York at promptly 10:20 that morning, thundered 
into the station at Exeter. A dirty faced boy in 
rough clothes jumped from the steps of the day 


230 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


coach and stood at a respectful distance watch- 
ing those more fortunate ones being assisted with 
servile obsequiousness from the parlor car. 
When Heinric von Lertz alighted, followed 
closely by Madam Stephan, an expression of re- 
lief flitted across the face of the boy. He watched 
them curiously as a tall, cadaverous individual 
stepped up to greet them. 

Across the dusty road from the station an 
undertaking shop held sway. That its proprie- 
tor was J. B. Dollings was signified by the ornate 
gold lettering across the window, and that the 
cadaverous individual who greeted Von Lertz 
and Madam Stephan was none other than J. B. 
Dollings, was a conclusion not hard to arrive at 
as the boy watched him conduct his visitors across 
the road and into the shop. From his vantage 
point on the platform the boy awaited develop- ‘ 
ments. In a short while Von Lertz and Madam 
Stephan and their tall host emerged from the 
shop and entered the car that stood at the curb. 
The boy watched the car whirl away amid clouds 
of midsummer dust down the long road that 
seemed to lead out of the city to the mountains 
that towered in the distance. 

The dirty faced boy slipped down from the 
truck on which he had been sitting and gazed 
after them ruminatively. 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 231 

“So they are undertakers now. Queer busi- 
ness to be in.” He stepped into the station and 
peered through the bars of the ticket window at 
the station agent who sat in the inner office, chair 
tilted back against the wall, an odoriferous corn 
cob pipe clutched between toothless gums. 

The station agent brought his chair to a level 
and slowly rose and slouched to the window. 
Following which effort was a long argument 
during which the dirty faced boy finally con- 
vinced the station agent that he needed an assist- 
ant, had always needed one, and that he was the 
assistant needed. After due attention had been 
called to the ancient dirt covered floor, the dust 
of the station benches, and litter of bygone 
lunches, the job was landed and an hour later 
found the station undergoing a long-needed 
cleaning at the hands of the new assistant. The 
dirty faced boy had found employment, food, 
shelter — and the opportunity of acquiring the 
contents of every telegram entering or leaving 
the station! And as the dirty faced boy was 
Dixie Mason, the information was priceless to 
her — and the interests she served. 

While members of the Criminology Club 
passed days of waiting, armed and ready for any 
emergency that might arise, Dixie pursued her 


232 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

purpose with relentless activity in and around 
Exeter. 

She first of all established the fact that the 
undertaking business of J. B. Dollings was a 
comparatively new departure. That while he 
had several assistants constantly in attendance, 
liis establishment was little patronized and he 
made no efforts to gain patronage. Dixie found 
that Heinric von Lertz and Madam Stephan 
made their daily headquarters in a new, roughly 
constructed building, among the hills at the out- 
skirts of the village where a small city of tents 
had sprung up miraculously, housing laborers 
strangely inactive for a grading outfit. She 
found that hundreds of men were gathering daily. 
At night, snuggled close to a great boulder, 
Dixie watched the activities of the camp and saw 
wagons loaded to their limit with supplies wind- 
ing their way along the gorge roads. And she 
saw the men gathering at the board building for 
meetings. 

One afternoon Dixie, attractive in spite of 
dirty face, towsled mop of hair, rough clothes, 
ran across the street to J. B. Dolling’s shop. 

“A carload of caskets just came in for you, 
Mr. Dollings.” Mr. Dollings’ long clawlike 
fingers clutched the bill in obvious excitement. 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 233 

"‘Where — ^where are they?” He reached for 
his hat and hurried around the counter. 

“The caskets? Over on the first track. I’ll 
show you ” 

“No, never mind, never mind. The number of 
the car’s on the bill of lading. I’ll find it.” As 
Dixie lingered outside she heard him calling 
hoarsely, “Bloedt! Rudolph! Mahlen! The 
caskets have come. Get teams at once. We must 
unload them at once. Hurry! Must send a 
telegram!” 

Dixie listened speculatively. Mr. Dollings 
was exhibiting an unheard of amount of excite- 
ment over a carload of caskets for one who was 
an undertaker. And a carload of caskets for an 
undertaking shop that did no business ! 

Her speculations were cut short by the rumble 
of express wagons. They drove through the 
yards to the car. One of the men broke the seal 
while Dollings bustled about, excitedly issuing 
orders. Dixie found a place where she could 
watch them without being seen. 

Carefully the grewsome boxes were unloaded 
and carried out to the express wagons. She 
saw two wagons loaded and driven across the 
street to the shop. Her ruminations over their 
disposal were cut short by a crash and sound of 


234 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


splintering wood which quickly brought her at- 
tention back to the unloading process. 

DolKngs’ voice was raised in angry expostula- 
tion. 

^^Donnerwetter! Why didn’t you hold on to 
that end? Here you, Bloedt cover up that end. 
Quick! Mahlen, you go too ” 

Dixie slipped down behind the freight car and 
peeped under it. She could see plainly the 
splintered box. And though the men were vainly 
trying to conceal its contents she could see them. 
It was no casket that the box contained. Slip- 
ping out from its broken boards were rifles! Mili- 
tary rifles! 

And the car had been filled with scores of boxes 
similar to this. This was the cause of Dollings’ 
excitement! Here were rifles enough to fit out 
hundreds of men who were gathering at the bor- 
ders of Canada waiting the hour to strike. The 
men at the grading camp were there awaiting 
these arms. As soon as they were fitted out the 
time would be ripe for the invasion which the 
powers above them had planned. 

Then Dixie remembered the telegram that 
Dollings had hastened'to send as soon as the car 
had been reported. 

She hurried back into the station. The sta- 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 235 

tion agent had left. There were no trains due 
until late in the evening. She let herself into the 
office and reached for the telegrams which had 
been filed for the day. Near the top was Dol- 
lings’ addressed to 

“Captain Franz von Papen 
“60 Wall Street 
“New York City. 

“Everything O. K. 

“Dollings.” 

That was all. But it meant that the rifles had 
'arrived — the rifles for which Von Lertz and 
Madam Stephan had been waiting, the rifles 
which were to equip the waiting German re- 
servists! An armed invasion of Canada from 
American soil. Her mind whirled at the thought 
of the comphcations involved — perhaps war be- 
tween Great Britain and the United States on 
the charge of having fostered this invasion by 
German sympathizers! 

No! Dixie knew that the moment for action 
had come. Her fingers sought the telegraph key. 

“Harrison Grant, Criminology Club, New 
York City,” she tapped. “Danger! Come quick! 
Wire arrival. Randolph Bruce.” 

Then, womanlike, she gave herself up for a 
moment to wild surmisings. Had she waited too 
long? Would this message reach him in time to 


236 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


^et his men to Exeter to stop this invasion? After 
all, had she followed the right course. Would it 
not have been better to have stopped the whole 
thing at its inception, rather than let it attain 
this amazing growth that threatened to be over- 
whelming. But time was short. Already Von 
Papen had received the telegram and she must 
wire the Chief of developments. Her fingers 
tapped the keys once more. She had the con- 
solation of knowing that the Chief’s men had 
covered all other camps along the border. This 
one camp had depended on her, and Harrison 
Grant and his men were dependent on her. As 
soon as the Chief received her wire his message 
would go back to the other camps ordering in- 
stant action. But here — at Exeter — no one 
could foresee the result. 

The afternoon light was fading in the dim sta- 
tion as Dixie crept out. She took the road to 
the gorge, stepping into shadows as wagons lumb- 
ered past with cargoes that she dreaded to guess 
at. A great purring car slid past and she heard 
Madam Stephan’s laugh tinkle out on the night 
air. A sudden activity had sprung into being. 
Everywhere were wagons, rumbling through the 
night and men hurrying past on strange and un- 
wonted errands. 

From the friendly shadow of a boulder Dixie 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 237 

looked down upon the will-o’-the-wisp lights of 
the camp and the greater glow of the windows of 
the main camp building. The shadowy outlines 
of wagons against the darkness of the night, 
rumbling into the camp yard, the silhouettes of 
men at the loading doors, carrying the long boxes 
filled with rifles for Germany’s army in America! 

A lump rose in Dixie’s throat and she clenched 
her hands in a passion of earnestness. 

“Make Grant get here in time!” she prayed. 
“He must get here in time!” 

The thought brought to her the need of being 
on the alert at the station for messages. She 
rose quickly and leaving the lights of the camp 
hurried back over the dark road to the little sta- 
tion. She let herself into the little office and 
seated herself before the telegraph instrument, 
signalling for the relay station at Buffalo. She 
w-aited impatiently for a moment and then heard 
the answering call. 

She tapped her message. 

“Anytliing for Ex-x?” The long silence that 
followed was finally broken by the clatter of the 
instrument. 

“Nothing.” 

Dixie sank back in the chair. Her message 
had gone through hours before, certainly by this 
time Grant should have received it and answered. 


238 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


But the instrument was clicking again — call- 
ing for Exeter. 

“Ex — ex — exexexex — ex — exexex.” 

“O. K. Ex — go ahead,” Dixie tapped in an 
agony of impatience. The sounding key snapped 
back. 

“Hello Ex — ^thought I’d tell you — wire trouble 
between here and New York. Ought to clear up 
soon.” 

The instrument ceased its clatter. Dixie set- 
tled back, hopeful — and yet hopeless. Now there 
was no means of knowing. Her communication 
had been cut off. She could only wait — wait — 
with the teeth of anxiety gnawing at her heart. 
Wait, while all through the northern states. Im- 
perial Germany’s reservists were hurrying to 
their stations. Wait — while out at the main 
camp, Heinric von Lertz and Madam Stephan 
were giving orders that would cause rebellion to 
flare at the first word from Von Papen. 

But Dixie brightened a bit as she caught at 
the cheerful thought that Von Papen’s message 
could not come through until the wires were 
opened — still when the wires were opened. Von 
Papen’s wire might come through and Grant 
would not be there to stop the resultant activity. 

Hour by hour dragged endlessly as the night 
wore on. Dixie sat by the telegraph kty, wait- 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 239 

ing. Call after call sent through Buffalo 
brought back the answer: 

“Wire not clear yet. Working on it.” 

The moon dimmed, and the chill air of night 
made her huddle closer in the chair and shiver. 
Would the night never end and the call she was 
waiting for come? 

As the dawn lightened the dingy interior of 
the station it showed Dixie Mason with tumbled, 
towsled head fallen sleepily on one shoulder. 

The staccato clicking of the telegraph sounder 
broke into the quiet of the room. It started Dixie 
from her sleep. For one bewildered moment she 
glanced at the instrument before her and then on 
the alert reached for the key to answer the call 
that was coming through for Exeter. 

“O. K. Ex.” She waited tensely for the an- 
swer 

Suddenly a shadow fell across the doorway and 
Dixie started violently. “Here you! What’re you 
doing at that telegraph instrument?” The rough 
voice of the station agent sent a chill of fear 
through her. “You don’t know nothing about 
them things. Get out of here!” 

He pushed her roughly aside and seated him- 
self at the table to take the message that in spite 
of nervousness and sudden fright seemed to burn 


240 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

itself into her brain. It was for Heinric von 
Lertz! 

“Proceed at once!” 

“F. V. P.” 

Von Papen! Dixie clutched at the station 
agent’s arm as he started for the door with the 
message. 

“Don’t deliver that!” she begged. “Please — 
don’t deliver it yet.” 

“Don’t deliver a telegram?” the agent glared 
at her uncomprehendingly. “What’s the matter 
with you? Want me to lose my job?” 

“But if that telegram meant trouble — if it 
meant danger for our country?” 

“It’s a telegram and it’s got to be delivered,” 
he answered stubbornly. 

Dixie’s hand reached for her Secret Service 
Commission, then dropped. She had seen the 
station agent with Von Lertz and Dollings on 
various occasions. If he were an accomplice — 
which was very likely — her commission would 
profit her nothing and probablj^ would work 
harm to her cause. She turned with an effort 
and laughed. 

“I was just fooling,” she apologized. 

“Poor way to fool,” grumbled the* station 
agent, and slammed the door. 

Dixie watched him shuffle across the dusty 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 241 

road and intercept Von Lertz and Madam 
Stephan as they left the hotel. She saw a hurried 
conference over the yellow slip of paper follow. 
As she watched them the telegraph instrument 
began to clatter once more. The station agent 
was across the street. This time she would not 
be thwarted. 

‘D. K. Ex,” she signalled rapidly, and the 
answer came through. 

“Randolph Bruce, 

“Exeter — ( delayed) . 

“Arriving 6:40 

“Grant.” 

Dixie dragged herself weakly out of the of- 
fice and sat down for a moment. Grant was com- 
ing at six forty! fit was six ten now. She 
jumped to her feet. There was no time for un- 
necessary rejoicing. There was too much to be 
done. 

The station agent shuffled into the station 
again and seating himself at the table began to 
take the orders that were clattering in over the 
wire. Dixie waited no longer. 

The town boasted one garage. The garage 
owner, industriously cleaning a thick veneer of 
dust from a car, started suddenly at a light touch 
on his shoulder. The boyish figure standing in the 
doorway was very businesslike. 


242 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


‘T want every car you have got.” 

The garage owner stared, “What for?” 

“There’s a special train coming in at six forty 
with a lot of men and they will have to have cars.” 
Dixie slipped a hand into a pocket and brought 
out her Secret Service Commission. 

“Here’s the reason,” she said. “And listen to 
me, because I want you to get this straight.” For 
a few moments she conversed with him in low 
tones. 

“It’s all right. I’ll have them there,” he as- 
sured her finally and Dixie hurried away on the 
road leading to the camp. 

The special train bearing Grant and his men 
slid into the station and came to a smooth stand- 
still, and as the first men jumped to the platform, 
the garage owner stepped up to them. 

“I have a message for Harrison Grant.” 
Grant was pointed out to him. “Mr. Grant,” he 
said, stepping over to where the detective stood, 
“A Secret Service man gave me an order a little 
while ago, he wasn’t any more’n a boy. He says 
to be sure to raid that undertaking shop across 
the way and then go on to the main camp in the 
gorge.” 

Thanking his informant Grant called his men 
around him and issued quick, incisive orders. 
Leaving Cavanaugh and Stewart to oversee the 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 243 

raiding of the undertaking shop, he selected his 
men and loaded them into the waiting machines. 
Soon the streets of Exeter resounded with the 
roar of speeding automobiles, whirling through 
in a cloud of dust to the mountains beyond and 
the camp that lay in the gorge. 

Time was too short for the Secret Service to 
catch up all the tangled threads of this plot. 
While the waiting automobiles whirled Grant’s 
men to the camp in the gorge, the station master 
was telephoning frantically to Von Lertz. And 
a short half hour later their big automobile was 
grinding its way southward carrying Madam 
Stephan and her partner in intrigue away from 
the scene of the fiasco. 

Up on the Canadian border, mounted troops, 
summoned from twenty barracks by the Chief 
and Grant, rushed to protect the passes, tunnels 
and bridges, and throw a line of soldiery along 
the frontier. 

Out at the camp the headquarters were sud- 
denly surrounded and under cover of guns in the 
hands of Grant’s men the reservists were herded 
together and placed under arrest. Leaving 
them in the hands of his men. Grant started out 
to look about the camp. He found the powder 
house and supply depots hidden deep in the 
gorge, and as he stood and wondered at the huge- 


244 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

ness of this plot which had been foiled just in 
time, his gaze wandered from one object to an- 
other. Suddenly it centered on a little figure 
lying just below liim beside a boulder. It was 
a boy deep in the sleep of sheer exhaustion. He 
stepped down the hillside and stopped beside the 
boulder. 

“Poor youngster,” he muttered, “I’d better 
take him in, it’s damp here.” 

As he stooped and lifted the sleeping form, the 
cap slipped from the boyish head and a mop of 
curly hair waved loose. Grant gasped. The 
sleepy dark eyes opened and looked into his. 
Suddenly a hand sought to pull the coat which 
had fallen open together. But it was too late. 
Grant had caught sight of the Secret Service 
star. 

“Dixie Mason!” Grant breathed. “In the 
Service? Oh Dixie — ” and his arms closed about 
her a little tighter than was necessary although 
Dixie Mason lay still. 

While Harrison Grant stood holding Dixie 
Mason in his arms with the cares of the world, 
the troubles, the strain, slipping away from him, 
in the great relief of his discovery, many, many 
miles away the first seeds were being sown for a 
plot that equalled the one they had just quelled. 

In the interior of a fortune telling emporium 


THE INVASION OF CANADA 245 


in Hopewell, Va., sat a woman in the garb of a 
gipsy fortune teller. Her features were cold and 
heavy, her eyes piercing, and her voice when she 
spoke, belied with guttural accents the garb of 
the southern people she had donned. 

“Minna,” she called, and as the tapestries that 
hung the room were pushed aside by a maid, she 
spoke quickly: 

“Telegraph Von Papen to send me a good 
man at once for dangerous work.” 

The maid bowed. 

“Yes, Baroness,” she answered, and disap- 
peared. 


Chai>teii XI. 


THE BURNESTG OF HOPEWELL^ VIRGINIA. 

After all, Imperial Germany possessed a lum- 
bering sense of the theatrical. It had realizd that 
the little newborn town of Hopewell, Virginia, 
sheltered hundreds of men drawn from the labor- 
ing classes, uneducated, ignorant save of the 
work they were paid for, foreign to a large ex- 
tent, and among these men were those in whose 
minds ran the superstitious strain which breeds 
faith in the occult and fortune-tellers. In the 
hands of a clever fortune-teller these men might 
be made to talk, without realizing that they were 
giving away information to the hidden enemy of 
America. This was the explanation of the pres- 
ence of Baroness Theresa Verbecht in Hopewell 
as arbitress of destinies, in the guise of Madam 
LaVere, Mystic. In one of the myriad clap- 
boarded shacks of Hopewell she ladled out the 
mysteries of the future and the well-known facts 
of the present with lavish hand, and drank in all 
the information she could glean by clever ques- 
246 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 247 

tioning and suggestion, from the superstitious 
who passed in never-ending lines through the 
doors of her emporium of mystery. 

Hopewell held much of interest for Germany. 
Little more than a year before its site had been 
unploughed fields over which the winds blew in 
broad sweeps bending the green grasses in soft 
undulations and bobbing the heads of wild- 
flowers that dotted the fields. Soon with war’s 
shadows growing deeper over Europe the call 
had come from the Allies for explosives. The 
fields had been cleared and a great guncotton 
factory spread its broad stretches over the ground 
where the wildflowers had bobbed. And about 
the factory sprang up a town, or rather a half a 
mile from the factory, for guncotton is a thing 
to be respected whether in* the maw of a cannon 
or in the making. 

The town was a hit and miss affair, a similitude 
of western towns which sprang up over night in 
the days of gold rushes. Its streets, a crowded 
mass of unpainted shacks, lean-tos, and tents; 
cheap hotels, sub rosa gambling places, in fact 
all the attributes of the town of mushroom 
growth peopled with the polyglot population of 
a manufacturing town of America, the melting 
pot of the races. 

The day that Madam Stephan and Von 


248 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Lertz, fleeing from Exeter, realized that the plot 
which they had maneuvered to what seemed un- 
questionable success, had failed^ Franz von 
Papen received a telegram from Madam La- 
Vere. 

‘‘Everything O. K. Send me good man for 

dangerous work.” 

The telegram so tersely worded meant more 
than words could convey. It meant that after 
weeks of work Baroness Verbecht had learned 
as much as possible about the guncotton factory, 
its orders, its guards, its shipments and its most 
vulnerable points. 

A week passed before the Baroness received 
a reply in any form. Then one morning the 
tapestry curtains of her fortune telhng parlor 
parted to admit none other than the sanctimoni- 
ous J. B. Dollings. Dollings had closed up his 
undertaking establishment in Exeter with what 
might have seemed undue haste to those unac- 
quainted with his reasons for seeking other 
parts. 

“Captain von Papen regrets the delay in com- 
plying with your telegraphed request,” Dollings 
assured the Baroness, who showed a tendency to 
be a little angered over the time lost. “Canada 
was engaging his attention to such an extent that 
he could And no one to send here, but now that 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 249 

I have arrived ” he smiled an ingratiating 

smile, and the frown on the face of the Baron- 
ess faded a little, “I am ready for anything your 
Highness may suggest.” 

“It is well,” she answered briefly, “we will lose 
no more time.” 

During the week the ring of conspirators was 
completed by the arrival of Madam Stephan 
and Von Lertz in Richmond, upon orders re- 
ceived from Von Papen that they be at hand and 
ready to assist in operations in case they were 
needed in bringing the plot for the destruction 
of Hopewell to a successful climax. 

Dixie Mason, returning to her apartment after 
the strenuous days of activity in Exeter was ap- 
prised of their presence in Richmond by the dis- 
covery of a note from Von Lertz. 

“Dear Miss Mason — ” the note ran in Von 
Lertz’s angular hand, “I hope this finds you at 
home and rested after your southern trip. The 
Madame and I are now in Richmond, Va., where 
I would like to have you join us as soon as pos- 
sible. It may be that your eager wish to help 
us, expressed when I last saw you, can be 
granted here. Von Lertz.” 

“Lovely!” commented Dixie with a smile. 
“Dear Von Lertz, you have given me an unex- 
pected pleasure.” She addressed the far distant 


250 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

agent of Germany with an irony altogether lost. 
Then she bounced up with an activity purely 
characteristic. “Mamette, help me pack again. 
Tm on my way to Richmond.” 

Mamette appeared in the doorway, an expres- 
sion of genuine anxiety on her dusky counten- 
ance. “My land! Miss Dixie! Ain’t you ever 
going to stay home and rest?” 

Dixie laughed. “No rest for me, with these 
German agents running around loose through 
the country. Be sure and put my Panelphone 
in the bag.” 

Mamette’s eyes rolled till the whites of them 
gleamed. “You mean that new thing you kin 
hear through the wall with?” 

“That’s what I mean, but hardly through the 
wall, Mamette, just through a door or any high 
sounding surface. It’s simply a super-developed 
telephone without any wires that the Chief in- 
vented,” but seeing that this explanation was 
somewhat over Mamette’s head, Dixie stopped 
abruptly. “Hurry, Mamette, please, if I can 
catch this train today I’ll be in Richmond tomor- 
row morning.” 

The Baroness and Dollings had worked out 
the plan carefully for the destruction of the gun- 
cotton factory, although their preparations had 
of necessity been somewhat hasty. 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 251 

“I Ve been careful,” the Baroness told DoUings 
“to gain my information only in snatches and bits 
from munition workers who have come here to 
have their fortunes told. The fools do not realize 
that they tell me more than I tell them and none 
have suspected that they are being questioned. 
I have learned that the plant is least guarded be- 
tween midnight and 2 o’clock in the morning. 
That will be the best time, then, for you to plant 
your bomb. I will take you to a point near the 
guncotton plant and leave you there. Then I 
will proceed at once to Richmond to join Von 
Lertz and Madam Stephan. Report to me 
there at the hotel.” With a caution gained by 
long experience in plotting they covered each de- 
tail and arranged for any possible and unfore- 
seen happenings to their o^vn satisfaction. 

Early one morning before the darkness and 
chill of night had lifted they climbed into an 
automobile and drove to the point agrejed upon. 
There Dollings left the Baroness and she drove 
off through the black of the night to report to 
Von Lertz in Richmond. 

The yards of the guncotton plant were sur- 
rounded by an underbrush which in the quietness 
of the night made a silent approach somewhat 
difficult. Dollings, however, crept forward as 
noiselessly as was within his power. A heavy 


252 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


detonating bomb concealed in his coat, made 
progress somewhat perilous. He had almost 
reached the fence. Suddenly his coat caught on 
an entangling thorn bush. As his next move- 
ment loosened it the bush cracked back with a 
distinct snap ! Dollings stopped. 

“Halt!” a challenge rang out in the night. 

The guard ran toward the sound. There was 
little chance for escape. He had seen the shadowy 
form of Dollings skulking through the under- 
growth. Dollings clambered to his feet in a 
desperate dash for freedom but the flash of a 
rifle spat through the darkness and he felt a 
sharp pain in his leg. Crashing about, stumbl- 
ing, tripping, fighting his way, he Hmped on, 
clinging to the bomb in his coat. 

The rifle spoke again and this time Dollings 
dropped the bomb with an oath as the bullet 
passed through his wrist. A little closer and it 
would have exploded the bomb and he would have 
given up his hfe. Dollings did not want to die 
yet. He dropped the bomb, dodging and leap- 
ing, pain fighting at his throat in an endeavor to 
make him shriek, he plunged into the darkness 
of the night and escaped. 

Aroused by the shots the guards were gather- 
ing at the point of the sudden alarm. The 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 253 

ground was being examined closely, guards 
walked back and forth beating about in the un- 
derbrush. In a moment the bomb was discovered, 
dropped where Dollings had left it in his flight. 

The discovery of the blood spattered bomb and 
the attempt upon the factory was reported at 
once. A message went to Washington. From 
Washington a message went to Flarrison Grant 
at the Criminology Club. And Harrison Grant 
having received the message lost no time in get- 
ting to Hopewell. The Secret Service needed 
him there. 

When Dixie Mason arrived in Richmond the 
day after the attempt on Hopewell, she went 
directly to the hotel at which Madam Stephan 
and Von Lertz were registered. It was the hot- 
test part of the day and the hotel lobby was de- 
serted. Dixie asked for the proprietor. Show- 
ing him her Secret Service Commission she took 
him into her confidence to the extent of making 
him understand that she wanted a room next to 
the one occupied by Madam Stephan, and that 
she did not wish her name to appear on the regis- 
ter. 

‘Tt can be arranged, very easily,” he assured 
her. 

Dixie was gracious in her thanks. “But you 
had better make a card entry of my name so that 


254 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

in case I am forced to come in contact with either 
Von Lertz or Stephan, I can have an alibi.” 

“The clerk will take the blame,” smiled the 
proprietor. 

Very shortly Dixie was installed in a room 
next to Madam Stephan’s. A door connecting 
the rooms was locked and bolted — on Madam 
Stephan’s side, but this fact was of no concern 
to Dixie. She had brought out the Panelphone 
and examined its delicate mechanism; attached 
the batteries which gave it the telephonic electri- 
cal connection necessary to the transmission of 
sound, and then by means of a vacuum cup had 
fastened it to the door. By this device each 
sound within the next room would be intensified 
sufficiently for her to hear every word of any con- 
versation carried on. 

She placed the receiver at her ear. The low 
murmur of voices which she had heard a moment 
before now was magnified so that each sound 
reached her with a clarity allowing no* chance for 
mistakes. 

Madam Stephan was speaking. Her usually 
well-modulated voice carried an acid quality, an 
angry sarcasm that conveyed a deep displeasure. 

“Your little plan of taking my place seems to 
have failed. Baroness. Your endeavor to worm 
your way into Von Papen’s favor through Von 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 255 

Lertz has not met with the success you aspired 
to.’’ There was a sudden rustle of a newspaper 
being straightened out, then the caustic tones of 
the Madame cut the silence once more. ‘Spy 
Fails in Attempt Against Guncotton Plant,” 
she read. “ ‘Believed to have been injured by 
guard!’ A very good start, Baroness, for your 
operations in America. Three months in Hope- 
well and this is what you have accomplished!” 

The deep tones of the Baroness resounded into 
the little instrument at Dixie’s ear. 

“Perhaps it is as much as you have done.” 

“Is it? At least I’ve covered my tracks. The 
newspapers haven’t announced my failures ! And 
suppose they track your spy to your fortune tell- 
ing emporium? What then?”’ 

“You are jumping at conclusions.” 

“On the contrary, I am giving the police and 
the Secret Service of tliis country credit for hav- 
ing a little sense. And if a few others who are 
working in the interests of Germany would do the 
same thing there would not be so many failures 
in our plans. If you could dispose of a little of 
this egotism with which you all are overburdened 
you would be of more use. You think because 
you are Prussian that all the rest of the world 
are idiots, because your blood does not flow in 
their veins.” 


256 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Her voice had risen to an uncautious degree 
but it was cut short by the opening of a door in 
the room. 

“You’ve said enough. Stop it at once!” It 
was Von Lertz’s voice, angry, but low and self- 
possessed. “Can you not understand that this 
is no place for ” 

“But ” Madam Stephan broke in, inef- 

fectively, for Von Lertz brushed aside her ex- 
postulation. 

“ — personalities. If the Baroness had failed 
it is not her fault, nor the fault of the man she 
sent to do the work. If the plan failed, it failed, 
and that’s all there is to it. Now I have wired 
him in code to proceed at once on Instruction 
Number Four. I must ask you to let the great- 
ness of the cause we represent overshadow any 
private feelings that may arise.” 

“My dear Von Lertz ” but Dixie had 

slipped the Panelphone from the door and was 
packing it in her travelling bag. She had heard 
enough to realize that there were other places at 
which her services were more needed than here. 
Hopewell was still in danger. What was this 
Instruction Number Four which had been tele- 
graphed the spy to proceed on? She must learn, 
but the conviction that only in Hopewell could 
she gain this information hurried her to an at- 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 257 

tempt to reach there as soon as possible. The 
next train for the little town did not leave until 
late at night. The distance was short so Dixie 
decided to make the trip by automobile. With 
little trouble she rented one. 

Harrison Grant upon his arrival in Hopewell 
had taken up the work of tracing the culprit who 
had so nearly caused the destruction of the plant. 
Taking up the clue from the spot where the 
bomb had been found and accompanied by the 
Captain of the guard he had followed his blood- 
stained trail steadily to the door of Madam 
LaVere’s Fortune Telling Parlor. 

‘‘This is the place we want,” he announced 
softly to the Captain. “Don’t knock. Just open 
the door and make a rush for it.” 

The Captain turned the handle of the door. 

“It’s locked,” he announced laconically. Grant 
reached out and rapped sharply. 

A moment’s silence followed and then they 
heard a slow shuffle growing nearer. The key 
chcked in the lock and the door was opened by 
the pasty-faced Minna, the Baroness’ maid. She 
stared at them dully. 

Grant attempted to step into the hall, but the 
maid barred the way. 

“The Madame’s not home.” 

“No? Well, never mind. We’ll come in any- 


258 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

way,” and though she attempted to shove the 
door shut, Grant pushed her aside and followed 
by the Captain entered the dingy room. The 
maid watched them in angry silence. 

“Where’s the man that’s in this house?” asked 
Grant suddenl}^ 

The maid stared stupidly, “Man? What 
man?” 

“Yes, the man who came here wounded. 
Where is he?” 

She shook her head and lied ponderously. 

“I don’t know no — ” 

“Stop your lying. Where is he? There’s 
part of the bandage that was on him.” Grant 
pointed to a pile of rags in the corner. “Now 
come through. We haven’t any time to waste.” 

But the maid shook her head in dogged 
silence. In an effort to frighten her out of 
it, the Captain and Grant .settled down to a 
cross-examination, calling patience to their aid 
and overcoming the exasperation which only de- 
feated their purpose. It was growing late. Sud- 
denly Grant raised his head questioningly and 
glanced at the Captain. At the same time a 
gleam of satisfaction crossed the face of Minna, 
the maid. 

A man had run past the shack shouting. 
Sounds of confusion drifted in to the dingy 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 259 

shack, and then Grant sniffed the air with a 
look of alarm and looked at the Captain. His 
anxiety was reflected there. A glance down the 
crooked street confirmed their worst suspicions. 
The town was on fire! 

As soon as their knock had come on the door 
of the fortune telling house, Minna had done 
a httle guerilla work and ascertained that 
the visitors were none she wished to see. Her 
assumed slowness and stubborness had given 
Dollings ample time to escape through the back 
door of the house where he had taken refuge 
the night before and down littered alleys despite 
the handicap of painful wounds. His failure 
of the night before had left him with a strong 
determination to make good at the job to which 
he had been assigned. In his pocket reposed a 
tiny book of numbered instructions. Instruction 
Four was marked. It was the one he was to 
carry out, according to von Lertz’s order: 

‘‘Remember that a north wind will blow a 
fire toward the guncotton plant and that Hope- 
well is a town of shacks. If necessary fire the 
town!” 

All day a brisk breeze had been blowing from 
the north. All things were auspicious now as 
night had fallen and he crept along piles of lum- 
ber and hid in the shadows. 


260 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


From a nearby shack a lighted lamp shed its 
glow through an uncurtained window. Dollings 
sneaked close to the house. The room was 
empty. In a corner of the plot a clothespile rested 
against the side of the house. He grasped the^ 
unwieldy piece and in a moment more had thrust 
the pole through the window and knocked the 
lighted lamp to the floor. A light of triumph 
glinted in his evil eyes as, not daring to wait to 
see the result of his handiwork, he hobbled 
hurriedly away. He heard a scream and look- 
ing back saw a black cloud of smoke, billow- 
ing out of the window. In a few moments the 
thin walls of the shack had burst into bright 
flame and the hastily formed bucket brigade of 
Hopewell was laboring in vain to check the rapid 
progress of the fire. The tent next door caught 
fire, the wind blew the cinders about and they 
fell on other shacks and the devouring terror 
spread rapidly to the southward, fanned by the 
brisk wind — southward to the guncotton factory. 

The bright glare of the burning town lighted 
up the figure of a limping traveller, who stopped 
now and then to gaze back at it with a grunt of 
satisfaction. 

Harrison Grant and the Captain abandoned 
their cross-examination in the greater need of 
helping fight the fire that had broken out in 





The devastation caused by German spies who razed the town of Hopewell, Va. 





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BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 261 

Hopewell. It took no trained mind to grasp 
the peril that threatened the town. All its lit- 
tle population was out and fighting but they 
were powerless. The elements were fighting 
against them, and the lack of proper fire pro- 
tection. 

Minna, the maid, was handcuffed and turned 
over to an officer, while Grant hurried away with 
the Captain. “Where is the powder house?” he 
shouted at him above the rising confusion, and 
the Captain called back, “The nea'rest one’s at 
the quarry.” 

“Good, take me to it.” 

Grant could see that Hopewell was doomed. 
The flames leaped onward in their work of 
destruction. While frightened mobs fought at 
the banks to recover their savings, looters ap- 
peared, and added their terror to that of the 
flames as they rushed on to what seemed the 
inevitable doom of the thing that had given 
Hopewell its life — the guncotton plant. 

If the factory could be saved Hopewell 
might rise again, but if those scorching flames 
reached the great stores of guncotton there 
would be no plant, no Hopewell, not even a 
survivor — only devastation, which would mean 
success to Imperial Germany’s plot. 

Grant racing toward the powder house with a 


262 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

growing army of men following him, shouted 
orders as he went. He had reached the door 
and unlocked it. Appointing several men hastily 
to accompany him, he rushed in. 

“Get the dynamite and detonators,” he 
ordered. 

With quick precision the men leaped to obey 
him, and then followed him back again to the 
scene of conflagration. The flames were gain- 
ing swift headway. Lives had been lost where 
people in frantic endeavor to save their few pos- 
sessions had braved the fiery terror. The down 
town section of the small city was in ruins. The 
flames had reached the outskirts and were near- 
ing the guncotton factory. 

Grant stationed his men in this part. 

“String those wires here,” he shouted, dash- 
ing among them as they struggled to obey his 
orders. “Hurry! That’s it,” he called, lending 
a hand to a man whose fingers worked clumsily, 
“Now attach them to the detonators. Work 
fast boys. The fire is catching up to us ! How’s 
the dynamite?” 

Above the roar of the steadily approaching 
flames the answer came back. 

“All wired up. Ready to blow up as soon 
as the plungers are attached.” 

“Any caps to them?” 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 263 

“Fulminate of mercury on every one.” 

“All right. Rush it. Let me know the 
minute you’re ready!” 

A moment of waiting followed, then a man 
shouted: 

“All ready, sir!” 

Grant looked back at the swiftly rushing 
flames, then turned to the men. 

“Now boys. Each man to a detonator,” he 
shouted. “When I say the word explode the 
dynamite!” 

There was a rush of dark figures in the glow 
of light. An order cut the air — ^then from the 
distance came a tremendous roar that dwarfed 
the noises of the night as the outskirts of Hope- 
well rose into the air. Great masses of wreck- 
age fell about the men. Clouds of smoke and 
dust blackened the night air and stifled the on- 
lookers, then the flames showed through once 
more — but this time they faced a gaping ditch 
of earth so wide that they could not cross. The 
guncotton factory was saved! Harrison Grant 
turned with a smile to the Captain of the guard, 
while wild cheers burst from the frantic citizens. 

Dixie Mason had made good speed toward 
Hopewell for the greater part of the distance. 
The car had run steadily until just as she came 
in sight of the columns of smoke clouds of burn- 


264 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

ing Hopewell and realized that Instruction 
Number Four had undoubtedly been carried to 
a successful conclusion, her heart sank at the 
sound of a whistling rush of air from the rear 
wheel. She stopped the machine and jumped 
down to inspect the hopelessly flattened wheel. 
With grim determination she dragged out heavy 
tools from beneath the seat of the machine and 
set to work to repair the damage as best she 
could, her mind running mechanically to the dis- 
aster that had befallen Hopewell. So this was 
Instruction Number Four! 

At the sound of crackling in the bushes Dixie 
turned apprehensively. The haggard figure of 
a man which dragged itself into a road was one 
to inspire horror. He stared wildly for a mo- 
ment and then lurched forward toward her. 
Dixie instinctively reached for the heavy wrench 
for protection but he shook his head. 

‘T won’t hurt you,” he called hoarsely. “I’m 
in trouble. I want you to take me to* Richmond,, 
little girl.” 

Dixie shook her head. ‘T’m not going to 
Richmond.” 

“But you can!” His voice rose in the intensity 
of his plea. “A hundred dollars if you will get 
me there. I can’t wait for trains. I’ll raise the 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 265 

price. A liundred and fifty if you’ll get me 
there.” 

Dixie leaned over and stared at him for a 
moment by the glow of the automobile lights. 
Surely she had seen this man before, despite the 
haggard appearance, the roughness, the dirt and 
grime and blood-stained bandages. Was this 
Dollings, the sanctimonious undertaker of 
Exeter? A recognition of him lighted her eyes 
for a moment. She cast a glance back at the 
smoke clouds darkening the sky and the glow 
of flames from Hopewell. Instruction Number 
Four! This was the man to whom von Lertz 
had sent the message to proceed on Instruction 
Number Four! 

Dixie turned to the machine. 

“I can’t hurry — and put this tire on too.” 

“Then you’ll take me to Richmond?” 

“If you can help me get this tire on.” 

“I can’t help much, but I can hold the tire 
for you.” 

Dixie nodded. She rolled out the extra tire 
and the work progressed. Now and then Dixie 
reached in her pocket, and one less intent on 
the work in hand would have caught the sound 
of a racheted surface being opened. But Dol- 
lings’ senses dulled by pain and anxiety did not 
notice. 


266 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


The tire was on the wheel. Dixie rolled out 
the old tire to place it in position and gave it to 
Dollings to hold. He leaned on it, his gaze 
turned up the road toward the burning town. 
Dixie gazed up toward the rising colunm of 
smoke and sparks too, and thought of the de- 
struction and sorrow and suffering it meant. 
Then very quietly she crept forward toward Dol- 
lings. His hands rested close together on the 
tire. He was not noticing her. She leaned 
over the tire and with a sharp snap slipped the 
handcuffs about his wrists. Dollings sprang at 
her with a snarl but faced the steeling glitter of 
a revolver. 

“Put that tire back on the machine!” she 
ordered tersely. 

He hesitated. “Go on,” she urged, “And if 
there is any doubt in your mind about this gun 
holding real bullets I’ll show you that it does.” 

He obeyed her grudgingly and with real dif- 
ficulty. If Dixie felt a tinge of pity shoot 
through her she had but to let her thought re- 
vert to Hopewell and Instruction Number Four 
and Dollings’ part in it to stifle it. 

“Now get into the driver’s seat and take the 
wheel. You can drive. I know it. I’ve seen 
you drive up in Exeter, you know.” She smiled 
a little at the bewildered glance he cast on her 


BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 267 

for a moment, then resumed her orders. “Drive 
to HopeweU! And remember what I said about 
this gun.” 

DoUings drove the car into Hopewell with* 
Dixie Mason holding the revolver. Circling 
through the fire devastated city they reached the 
group of cheering men just as the ditch had 
been blown up that saved the guncotton plant. 

Above the roar of the men Harrison Grant 
heard a shrill little voice that made his hearts 
backfire for an instant. 

“Oh, Harrison Grant!” He turned and 
looked up into the glad eyes of Dixie Mason. 
“See what IVe brought you,” she said, pointing 
at the cringing figure of the now completely 
cowed Dollings. She was standing on the run- 
ning board of the car. 

Grant walked up to the car with a smile at 
Dixie. Dollings drew back with a snarl of 
hatred as Grant touched him on the shoulder. 

“Seems to me you and I have met before,” 
said the president of the Criminology Club, “But 
I can’t just place you.” 

“Don’t you remember?” Dixie laughed, lean- 
ing toward him. “It’s Dollings, our good- 
natured undertaker from Exeter. He dealt in 
caskets up there you know, but the boxes they 
came in held guns instead of coffins. A very 


268 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


nice man if he had stuck to his trade, but chang- 
ing it got him into trouble. You’d better search 
him.” 

DoUings helpless, cowed, beaten, was beyond 
resistance. Their careful search revealed that, 
after all, the destruction of Hopewell was but 
an item compared with, the general plan of which 
DoUings was an agent. With an exclamation. 
Grant turned over a paper to Dixie Mason, to 
read. 

“Here Dixie, this is your case, and here’s a 
little lexicon of destruction that may be helpful 
to you.” 

Dixie took the paper and studied it, horror 
whitening her face. On it Avas written: 

“Blow up plants at 
Hopewell 
Wilmington 
Chester 

West Philadelphia 

Acton 

Detroit 

Windsor.” 

As she looked into Grant’s face, he smiled 
down at her. 

“After all, Hopewell has had its advantages,” 
he said. 

“How?” she questioned. 


BURmNG HOPEWELL, VA. 269 

Grant pointed to Dollings. “It has caused 
the arrest of this man, and will either cause Im- 
perial Germany to change all its plans or give 
the Secret Service a chance to guard against the 
attempts on the places named on this list. It 
may do even more ” 

Dixie looked at him thoughtfully. 

“If it could only awaken America to the dan- 
ger that is growing here in her very heart,” she 
said earnestly, “then indeed the destruction here 
would not have been in vain.” 

And though Harrison Grant and Dixie 
Mason, and all the members of the great organ- 
ization they represented knew that the danger 
of Germany’s intrigues was a vast, far-reaching, 
fast growing one, even they did not know the 
immensity of it. While they exulted over the 
partial failure of one of those schemes of de- 
struction, von, Papen, Boy-ed, and Dr. Heinrich 
Albert were at work on still another — and 
greater one. 

In the rooms of the Hohenzollern Club they 
set in conversation one afternoon. 

“Von Papen, Count von Bernstorff complains 
constantly about the regular shipment of troops 
and supplies from Canada,” said Albert turning 
to the military attache. “What are we to do 


270 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

about it? He has asked me several times for 
a plan.” 

Von Papen blew a line of smoke rings into 
the air thoughtfully, and broke the ashes from 
his cigar. Then he spoke. 

“Make another attempt to blow up the Wel- 
land Canal, and this time succeed.” The last 
word broke ringingiy on the still air of the room 
as Albert and Boy-ed leaned toward him ex- 
pectantly. 

“And if it does succeed?” 

Von Papen shrugged his shoulders. 

“If it does, it will stop one of the great avenues 
of transportation. It will cause Great Britain 
to ask America how a military enterprise against 
Canada was allowed to be set on foot in the 
neutral territory of the United States. And 
about that time Germany’s propagandists will 
start working. And if we can’t stir up a war 
between the United States and Great Britain out 
of the muddle, we’re almost as stupid as these 
idiotic Yankees!” 

Dr. Albert with gleaming eyes reached out a 
hand to von Papen. 

“Von Papen, you have a master* mind,” he 
said. 


Chapter XII. 


THE WELLAND CANAL CONSPIRATORS 

Between Port Colborne on Lake Erie and 
Dalhousie, less than twenty-seven miles distant, 
on the shore of Lake Huron is a straight, nar- 
row stretch of water which occupies a place in 
the winning of the world war second only to 
that of the English Channel. This waterway is 
the greatest part of the explanation of Canada’s 
ability to keep the stream and volume of troops 
and supplies pouring steadily across the ocean 
to England and France. By means of it the 
troops of the provinces bordering on the Great 
Lakes, as well as the supplies of those of the 
'United States which are accessible to the inland 
waterways, have been carried rapidly and cheaply 
to the ocean port of Montreal, without overtax- 
ing the carrying capacity of the railroads of the 
Dominion. It is the Welland Canal, constructed 
and maintained by Canada to overcome the ob- 
structions to navigation between Lake Huron 
and Lake Erie, afforded by the rapids and the 
famous falls of Niagara River. 

271 


272 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

From the early days of the war, from the time 
when its importance to the mobilization of Can- 
ada’s resources become apparent, the Welland 
Canal as an objective of an underhanded attack 
was constantly in the minds of the army of 
spies and plotters maintained in America by the 
Imperial German Government. Its locks, con- 
structed to raise the largest of lake vessels to the 
327-foot elevation in the levels of the two lakes, 
offered a tempting mark for a charge of dyna- 
mite. The destruction of one of the gates would 
cripple the canal and render it useless for months, 
thus impeding greatly the extension of the help 
which Canada was giving Great Britain. The 
placing of a charge of explosive in one of the 
gates would be a matter of but little risk, as it 
could be easily done from the American side 
where the Canadian guards, respecters of the 
rights of neutral nations, could not interrupt the 
conspirators. 

Yet there were serious objections to carrying 
out a plot to destroy the canal, which occurred 
to Johann von Bernstorff, the shrewd and cau- 
tious ambassador of the Imperial German Gov- 
ernment at Washington, and director of the 
Kaiser’s spy army in America. When Captain 
Franz von Papen first mentioned a scheme for 
using dynamite on one of the locks of the canal. 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 273 

Count von Bernstorff,^ voiced his objections, and 
laid down the conditions upon which he would 
consent to such a plot in these words: 

“You have impetuously fostered a plan which 
is fraught with the greatest menace to which our 
country might be called upon to face. Captain. 
It is the possibihty of the United States enter- 
ing the war on the side of the Allies. The de- 
struction of the canal might well lead to serious 
complications between the United .States and 
the Dominion of Canada in which the national 
honor of the Yankees might be brought into 
question. Let such a question be raised and the 
entry of the United States against Germany in 
the war would be inevitable.. Damage within its 
own borders the United States will assimilate, 
but a threatened stain on the national honor of 
the country will arouse every American .to a pitch 
of fury which nothing can withstand. 

“The discovery of the perpetrators under 
such conditions would be a foregone conclusion. 
With you or anyone of the others you have men- 
tioned active in the plot, the trail would lead 
directly to this Embassy and the result would 
be the making of the one foe Imperial Germany 
cannot conquer — an aroused America. Come to 
me when you have explosives acquired through 
sources which cannot be traced, and when you 


274 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

have men who have never been associated with 
those who are connected with Imperial Germany. 
Then, and then only, will you receive the required 
permission to proceed.” 

That was early in the fall of 1914. Captain 
von Papen did not inform his^ chief that he al- 
ready had men at Niagara Falls, prepared with 
explosives and directions, awaiting the word 
from him. to go on their message of destruction. 
Von Papen had gone to von Bernstorff without 
the faintest suspicion that the scheme w^ould be 
refused the sanction of the Ambassador. In- 
stead, he had expected congratulations for hav- 
ing conceived such a mighty blow as the first act 
of the secret warfare which had been decreed for 
America by the Kaiser’s command. So the 
plan was abandoned, but Captain von Papen 
kept it in mind as being a scheme which would 
some day.be available for his peculiar talents. 

That time had now arrived. Caustic com-i 
ments regarding the failure of the Kaiser’s forces 
in America to lessen exports to the Allies, had 
become frequent in communications received 
from the Berlin offices. Particular references 
had been made to the large amount of supplies 
which were being shipped from Canada, refer- 
ences so particular in fact, that they might have 
been construed into a direct order to attack the 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 275 

Welland Canal. So it was that at the second 
time when the Welland Canal was discussed it 
was von Bernstorff who first mentioned it, but 
in von Papen he found a ready hstener and one 
eager for the permission which was given. 

“It is with reluctance that I give you permis- 
sion to proceed,’' said von Bernstorff. “Success 
will mean a great set-back to the Allies, but I 
fear the consequences. Supplies are necessary 
to England and France, but with all the avail- 
able supplies; which America could send to them, 
Germany would still be the victor. It is the 
man power of America we must fear.” 

“Bah! The American tin soldier!” sneered 
the military attache. “But you need not fear 
that the explosion will ever he traced to you. 
Neither Boy-Ed nor myself will take an active 
part. The necessary dynamite is already in our 
possession. Trustworthy men who have never 
been active in the interest of Germany will place 
it and explode it.” 

And von Papen, scarcely waiting for the final 
words of warning from von Bernstorff, hurried 
out to catch the train for New York. There he 
sought Paul Koenig, chief of detectives of the 
Hamburg American Steamship Line, the man 
who had procured the explosives and the men 
for the Welland plot. After listening to von 


276 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Papen’s jubilant announcement that permission 
had been granted for the attack on the canal, 
Koenig broke in: 

‘Tt is good, I can no longer keep the dyna*- 
mite in my offices. It must be taken some place 
else tonight. The boxes have been objects of 
suspicion since the night my men stole them from 
the barge in the river, and I dare not leave them 
there longer.” 

“There is no reason why we cannot take it 
to the Hohenzollern Club,” answered von Papen. 
“Four men can easily carry it in suit cases and 
from your office I will summon Boy-Ed and 
Heinric von Lertz.” 

No untoward incident interfered with the 
transfer of the dynamite. After it had been 
locked in the club safe the four men sat in the 
favorite corner of the military and naval aides, 
listening to a report of the plan for dynamiting 
one of the locks of the canal, from Koenig. 

“Two of the men made a minute examina- 
tion of the locks six years ago,” Koenig said. 
“The examination was made with the full con- 
sent of the Canadian Government, at the time,” 
and Koenig smirked over the thought, “the 
Hamburg American Line contemplated the es- 
tablishment of a line of lake boats to be operated 
in connection with the trans-Atlantic line. I had 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 277 

the honor of foi’warding the report, which con- 
tained much valuable information, to the Im- 
perial German War Office/’ 

‘‘Back to the subject,” interrupted von Papen, 
impatiently, “what are the plans?” 

“These men have selected three points in the 
canal which should be reached,” continued 
Koenig, unabashed. “Men, experts in handling 
dynamite are already in Buffalo awaiting in- 
structions. It is necessary only for some one 
authorized to go to them and give the orders to 
begin. They know what to do.” 

“In case any of them are captured?” asked 
Boy-Ed. 

“They will keep their mouths shut,” said von 
Papen. “Each one is working for an exemption 
from military service, for they are all reservists. 
No punishment w^hich can be inflicted will make 
them forget the punishment which Germany will 
mete out to all her slacker sons when the war 
is over.” 

“To success for his Majesty,” said von Lertz 
arising to his feet and reaching for one of the 
four seidels of beer which a waiter had placed 
on the table while von Papen had been talking. 
He turned to face the large oil painting of the 
Kaiser which hung but a few feet from where 
he stood while von Papen and Boy-Ed rose to 


278 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

their feet. Koenig, slower and clumsier, stum- 
bled as he attempted to rise, staggered a few 
feet and then, regaining his equilibrium, smashed 
heavily into the frame of the portrait, knocking 
the picture askew. 

A ladder was quickly brought, which von 
Lertz mounted, attempting to straighten the 
portrait. 

“His clumsiness has loosened one of the 
wires,” he announced, then to von Papen and 
Boy-Ed, “Franz, Karl, catch hold, we will take 
it down and have it fixed in a minute.” 

Struggling under the weight of the heavy 
frame they heard a choked exclamation from 
Koenig in his native tongue : 

^^Donnenrwetter, eine dictographr 

The trio all but dropped the picture of the 
Kaiser in their haste to turn and gaze jat the 
little object at which Koenig was pointing — a 
little instrument fastened to the blank wall which 
had been covered by the picture which they all 
knew had made audible, to anyone listening at 
the other end of wires, any conversation which 
had been held in the room. 

Koenig was the first to recover from the 
dumbfoundment which the discovery occasioned. 
Despite the clumsiness he had shown but a few 
minutes before he sprung up the ladder with 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 279 

agility and busily traced the course of the wire, 
which had been concealed so cunningly behind 
the molding by operatives of the Secret Service. 
Then he quickly descended and carrying the 
ladder with him ran to the adjoining wall of the 
room where his keen eyes had showm him the 
wires ran into the plaster. Again he mounted 
the ladder and ripped angrily at the wire, pull- 
ing plaster away recklessly, finally tearing a^ 
hole large enough to expose the wires ruiming 
upwards by means of a water pipe. 

“The plumbers — ^when they were here for the 
leak in that wall — ^must have been Secret Serv- 
ice,” jerked out von Papen between savage 
fervid oaths, as the explanation of how the dic- 
tograph had been installed came to him. 

“Quick. Upstairs and if you find anyone at 
the other end kill him before he has a chance to 
utter a word of what he has heard tonight,” he 
ordered and then led the way to the stairs lead- 
ing to the upper floors, a drawn automatic re- 
volver in hand. 

Koenig quickly traced the wires to the office 
room of an untenanted loft in a building adjoin- 
ing the Hohenzollern Club. The door of the 
room was locked but gave way easily to the 
burly shoulders of Koenig. Matches quickly 
showed conditions which caused a general sigh 


280 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

of relief. Three chairs in the room, the table, 
the floor and every piece of farniture was cov- 
ered with undisturbed dust, thick enough to be 
the accumulation of weeks. 

“No one has been in here in months,” said 
Boy-Ed, running his hand over the table and 
holding it up besmirched. 

“Here are newspapers five months old,” an- 
nounced von liertz, picking up 'se^'^eral from a 
corner and shaking the dust from them that he 
might read the date lines. 

The evidence that this plotting of the evening 
could not have been overheard by the use of the 
dictograph was so conclusive that they stayed in 
the musty smelling room but a few seconds and 
then returned to the more comfortable quarters 
of the club room they had left so hurriedly.” With 
the portrait of the Kaiser once more restored to 
its accustomed place, von Papen delivered the 
final instructions. 

“Boy-Ed, you will accompany me to Wash- 
ington so that we can be with Count von Bern- 
storff as surety to him that we are taking no ac- 
tive part. Koenig you stick closely to your ac- 
customed business. Von Lertz you will go to 
Buffalo and assume charge. For the sake of 
precautions take Baroness Verbecht, Madam 
Stephan and Miss Mason with you. I have sug- 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 281 

g€sted Miss Mason because of the impression 
she has made upon the lucky whelp Harrison 
Grant, president of the Criminology Club. If 
he should happen to appear anywhere on the 
scene, a thing which it not unlikely, due to his 
infernal luck in being wherever he can harm us 
most. Miss Mason must do anything to keep 
him away from the canal the night of the day 
after tomorrow. The Baroness and Madam can 
care for any other men who are too intrusive. 
Ten o’clock of the second night from to-night 
is the hour for the destruction of the canal. We 
will be awaiting word of your; success at the Im- 
perial German Embassy in Washington. Good- 
night.” 

Koenig and von Lertz accepted their dismis- 
sal and left the club together, but parted at the 
door, Koenig to go to the Sixth Avenue elevated 
station for a train to take him to less refined but 
more familiar resorts in lower Manhattan, and 
von Lertz to hurry to the telephone booths in 
the Hotel Plaza. From a telephone there he 
pleaded in vain with Dixie Mason for permis- 
sion to see her but a few minutes at once. He 
finally accepted her dictum that luncheon the fol- 
lowing day would be the earliest possible moment 
at which she could meet him. He could not know 
that his voice had betrayed the fact to her that 


282 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

another Imperial German plot was pending and 
that she wanted her meeting with the spy to he 
in some public place where it would be possible 
to get word to the Secret Service at once of any 
information she might acquire. 

So it was not by accident that Harrison 
Grant, president of the Criminology Club, was 
seated in an automobile just outside an entrance 
to one of Broadway’s biggest hotels when Dixie 
Mason emerged the following day. To the 
passerby it would have seemed a chance meet- 
ing, extremely pleasurable to both. 

“When did you take the dictograph out of 
the Hohenzollen Club?” she asked as he leaned 
out of the car to grasp her hand*. 

“Last night,’’ was his answer. 

“Last night? Why Heinric just assured me 
that he knew for a fact that the dictograph that 
was discovered had not been used in months.” 

“The impression we want him and the other 
worthies to get,” responded Grant, and then to 
appease her curiosity, “since the day we installed 
it I knew that it might be discovered at any 
time and prepared for it. It mjght have nulli- 
fied a great deal of information if they suspected 
anyone knew of conversations held in the Club. 
I was* listening last night when Koenig fell 
against the picture and exposed the receiver. 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 283 

Newspapers, six months old, were in the cor-^ 
ners of the room prepared for this emergency 
and we carefully scattered bags of dust which 
we had there over everything. We were de- 
scending the fire escape when they broke into 
the room.” 

“Then you have all the information I have 
gathered from von Lertz,” said Dixie well con- 
cealing the disappointment she felt. “You 
know that another attempt is to be made to 
dynamite the Welland Canal, and there is noth- 
ing I can do to help.” 

“We still need plenty of help, just of the 
peculiar kind you can give us,” said Grant. 
“We only know that an attempt is to be made 
and that the dynamite has been procured. The 
canal is nearly twenty-seven miles long and to 
learn the place where the attempt is to be made 
would help us. Also an idea as to when the at- 
tempt is to be made.” 

“Then I have some information for you,” 
smiled Dixie. “Heinric has just invited me to 
go to Buffalo with Baroness Verbecht, Madam 
Stephan and himself tonight. The Baroness and 
Madam are to entice any curious men away from 
their duties and I am to see that you discover 
nothing in case your luck should guide you to 
the sj^ot.” 


284 


THE EAGLETS EYE 

“With such an inducement nothing can pre- 
vent me from reaching Buffalo tomorrow,” said 
Grant. 

“Bye-bye, then, until we meet there,” an- 
swered Dixie and turned to re-enter the hotel. 

A few moments later she had rejoined Heinric 
von Lertz in the dining room and was assuring 
him that the massage which he had suggested had 
all but vanquished her headache. Eagerly he ex- 
tended an invitation to a matinee, dinner and 
then an auto ride to the railroad station in Jersey 
for the train to Buffalo, and was boyishly pleased 
when she accepted. Excusing himself, he tele- 
phoned brusque orders to Baroness Verbecht and 
Madam Stephan to join him at the train and 
then rejoined Dixie for the round of pleasure 
he had planned. 

Arriving in Buffalo the party was driven to 
the Algonquin Hotel. As they paused at the 
desk for von Lertz to register, a bellboy hurried 
up to Dixie. 

“You dropped this. Miss,” he asserted. 

“Oh, I thank you,” responded Dixie, accepting 
a dainty lace handkerchief she had never seen be- 
fore, when she caught a significant gleam in the 
young man’s eyes. 

The bellboy turned away quickly to accept, 
nonchalantly, a tip which von Lertz had extend- 


' THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 285 

ed. Without attracting the attention of the rest 
of her party, Dixie found an opportunity to 
stretch the handkerchief out. On the small piece 
of linen in the centre was written ini pencil: 

“Bearer of this will be constantly with me, and 
will keep careful watch for any messages from 
you. H. G.” 

“A trip to the Welland Canal is really nice in 
an auto.” 

It was the voice of von Lertz which broke in 
upon the pleasant musings which the message 
had aroused. 

“If that is intended for an invitation, there 
is nothing I would like better,” responded Dixie 
quickly. “Will the Baroness and Madame ac- 
company us?” 

“They must remain here, for their work may 
begin any time,” returned the spy and then es- 
corted Dixie to a little roadster which he. had 
procured. 

There was but little conversation on the drive 
out. At the canal von Lertz drove to three of 
the locks and carefully surveyed the surround- 
ing land. As the inspection progressed his 
spirits rose rapidly. 

“Good, good,” he chuckled, half to Dixie and 
half to himself, “Koenig certainly knew what he 
was doing in selecting the men for this job.” 


286 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

On the return trip he chatted gaily, and seemed 
to be in no hurry to get back to the hotel, keep- 
ing the speed of the car well down to the road 
limit. Despite this, just as they entered the 
boundaries of Buffalo, a heavily goggled mo- 
torcycle policeman, blocked the road. 

“Ten miles an hour’s the hmit on this road,” 
he announced gruffly and von Lertz brought the 
car to a surprised stop. 

“Ten miles an hour?” demanded the angered 
spy, “why there isn’t a car built that can stand 
that sort of a snail’s pace.” 

“Ten miles an hour” reiterated the officer and 
Dixie recognized a ring on the finger of the hand 
extended toward von Lertz. Quickly her hand 
dropped over the side of the car and for a mo- 
ment her finger was busy writing in the dust 
which had collected there, while the now thor- 
oughly incensed German volleyed a heated tirade 
at the policeman, who contented himself with 
repetitions of “ten miles an hour’s the limit.” 

The attitude of the officer suddenly changed 
as Dixie’s hand was withdrawn into the car and 
lay idle in her lap. 

“Oh, all right, if you are going to get mad 
about it,” he said and stepped aside peering in- 
tently at the side of the car on which Dixie was 
seated. Plainly written there were these words : 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 287 

“Will send message boy by to-night. Watch 
hotel alley.’’ 

As the machine disappeared in the distance 
the motorcycle policeman raised his goggles and 
laughed. It was Harrison Grant. 

But Heinric von Lertz did not know. De- 
fying the rules of the road he was speeding to- 
ward the hotel, his good humor of a few minutes 
before dissipated by the dispute with Grant. 
Suddenly the speed of the car slackened but a 
few doors from the hotel. 

“Do you know those two men?” demanded 
von Lertz. 

Dixie Mason turned in the direction he pointed. 
Baroness Verbecht and Madam Stephan were 
aiding Cavanaugh and Stewart of the Secret 
Service, both of them apparently intoxicated, 
into a taxicab standing at the curb. Stewart no- 
ticed von Lertz pointing at them and waved a 
maudlin salute as he ordered the chauffeur to 
drive to a roadhouse on the outskirts of Buffalo 
in a thick loud voice. 

“Do I know them?” retorted Dixie. “Do you 
know Harrison Grant?” 

“Yes, the dog,” muttered von Lertz. 

“Those are his two best men.” 

“Good,” said von Lertz, smiling happily, “I 


288 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

will commend Verbecht and Stephan in my re- 
poiL” 

Dixie Mason smiled quietly. She had seen 
the method in which Secret Service operators ac- 
quired “business jags.” She had watched op- 
eratives recklessly ordering drinks of every de- 
scription and downing them in gulps, knowing, 
that harmless substitutes had been served by an- 
other operative at the bar. 

“You will have to excuse me,” said von Lertz 
as they entered the hotel. “I have to supervise 
arrangements. I will meet you in Verbecht’s 
room at eight o’clock.” 

Dixie kept him well in sight as he turned away 
and as a result was able to send Harrison Grant* 
the information that von Lertz and three of 
Koenig’s men had spent the afternoon attach- 
ing detonators to sticks of dynamite, by means 
of the operative in the guise of a bellboy. When 
she went to the room of Baroness Verbecht at 
the appointed hour she found Madam Stephan* 
and the Baroness already there. Von Lertz en- 
tered a feyv\ moments later. 

“You two here?” he demanded angrily of the 
female spies. “You left the two Secret Service 
men to their own devices.” 

“Not exactly,” drawled Madam Stephan. 
“We left them, yes, but only after they had been 
tucked in bed in a drunken stupor. Both of 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 289 

them are so dead to the world that they would 
not awaken if they were sleeping on the top of 
the gates to lock fourteen tonight.” 

“Good, good,” once more in good humor. 
“Everything has gone splendidly. I watched 
while Arth and Gerson left the hotel through the 
front entrance with bell boys carrying their suit 
cases loaded with dynamite. To guard against 
any suspicion they ordered a car for the railroad 
station. There another is awaiting them and 
they will make the canal in good time. J-acob- 
son is still here. He will take out the stuff which 
is too big for suit cases. A car is awaiting him in 
the alley. He will go down the fire escape just 
in time to reach the canal at ten o’clock. The 
dynamite will have been placed and the wires 
run. A few seconds later — a muffled report and 
England will receive but little aid from Canada 
for many months to come. Is it not well plan- 
ned?” 

He paused for a moment to hear the words of 
praise from the three women, then continued. 

“Come. You can see from here. Jacobson’s 
things are already on the fire escape.” 

Baroness Verbecht and Madam Stephan 
crowded close to the window at which Von Lertz 
was standing, but Dixie Mason remained seated 
in her chair neiwously knotting a bit of string she 


290 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

had found some place. Von Lertz quickly 
missed her and turned to look at her. 

“Why you poor child,” he said coming to her, 
“you appear all unstrung. There is not a thing 
to worry about.” 

“I know there isn’t,” responded Dixie with a 
twisted smile, “but it is almost unbelievable to 
me that at last we have done something without 
Harrison Grant knowing of it. I feel apprehen- 
sive for some reason. Are you sure there is no 
one in the hallway?” 

“Why this is most unlike you, Miss Mason,” 
responded Von Lertz. “But come see for your- 
self and relieve your worry.” 

He threw the door open and gave Dixie’s/ arm 
a little re-assuring squeeze and she gazed up and 
down the long empty corridors. 

“I believe I am making myself nervous with 
this old string,” she said, ruefully casting it from 
her onto the floor. 

“At least you know there is no one spying,” 
said the German as he turned back into the room. 

His voice would have lost the confidence it ex- 
pressed as he continued to pour assuring words 
into her ears, if he could have known of a hap- 
pening in the corridor. Scarcely had he drawn 
the door shut, when the door of the room across 
the corridor opened and a bell-boy, who a mo- 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 291 

merit before had been crouching inside with his 
eye at the keyhole, emerged. Stooping quickly 
to pick up the string which Dixie had thrown 
away he sped noiselessly down the corridor to the 
elevators. 

But Von Lertz did not know, and continued 
to enlarge upon the efficacy of the precautions 
which had been taken, and how impossible it was 
for the Secret Service to have learned anything 
of the present plot. As he was talking a knock 
came on the door and a bellboy, the same one who 
had taken Dixie’s piece of string from the floor of 
the corridor, put his head in: 

“Did you ring, sir?” he asked, “No, sir? * I am 
sorry.” 

The door was closed but a message had been 
delivered. To Dixie Mason the appearance of 
the bellboy at the door meant that her bit of 
string had reached Grant and had been under- 
stood. On the string she had tied knots spaced 
to the dots and dashes of the Morse code spelling 
out the following message: 

“Lock fourteen. Ten o’clock. Watch alley.” 

“In a moment Jacobson will be starting,” said 
Von Lertz moving toward the window. 

Dixie accepted his unspoken invitation and 
moved to his side at the window and gazed down 
into the rapidly darkening alley. A moment 


292 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

after she had taken her position a figure emerged 
onto the fire escape, and it did not take the 
whispered words of the spy standing next to her 
to identify it as Jacobson. The dynamiter 
gathered up two large packages which were al- 
ready on the platform outside his window and* 
then made his way gingerly to the ground by 
way of the frail steel stairway. An automobile 
crept up to him out of the shadows of the build- 
ing. Jacobson got in. The car began to move 
forward out of the alleyway and Dixie Mason 
became filled with a fearful dread. Suppose her 
message had not been understood and no watch 
had been placed on the alley? 

But, no. A figure suddenly launched itself 
from the kitchen loading platform onto the run- 
ning board of the car. A second appeared from 
the garbage cans, and the glint of a revolver 
could be seen in his hand, as he vaulted into the 
vacant seat by the driver. The car came to a 
sudden halt and a terrific struggle ensued in the 
tonneau. The struggle was short lived however. 
A revolver shot, the flash of which showed it to 
be in the air, and Jacobson was a prisoner. 

“Look, look, isn’t that Harrison Grant,” 
gasped Von Lertz clutching Dixie’s arm as an- 
other figure appeared in the alley running toward 
the car. 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 293 

“Anyone hurt here?” 

It was a call from the running figure which 
made his identification as the president of the 
Criminology Club a certainty. 

Yon Lertz who had been cursing fervidly as 
he gazed into the alleyway suddenly, affrightedly, 
became aware of his own precarious position. 

“Quick, we must get out of here,” he uttered 
hoarsely and led the way through the door to the 
corridor. There was no one but a bellboy to be 
seen, bearing a tray with a pitcher of water. 
Had Von Lertz been less occupied he might have, 
recognized him as the same one who had been to 
the room a short time before, and had he stopped 
a little he would have seen that the tray concealed 
from view a wicked automatic revolver which was 
clutched tightly in the right hand of the hotel 
servant. The bellboy gazed blankly past the 
German spies directly at Dixie Mason who was 
in the rear. A slight shake of her head caused 
the boy to step back against the wall to permit 
free passage for the party. 

Von Lertz led the women out of the hotel by 
devious routes which finally emerged into the 
open through a side door onto a darkened street. 

“Remain here,” he whispered, “while I get a 
car.” 

The three women stood in the shadow of the 


294 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

building. Madam Stephan and Baroness Ver- 
becht whispering together in frightened voices. 
Dixie Mason was startled a trifle by a subdued 
voice from the shadows directly in back of her. 

“Operative 523, Miss Mason,” said the voice, 
“shall I arrest the party?” 

“No,” answered Dixie Mason without turning 
her head, “Von Lertz is of more value to us at 
large as a means of keeping tabs on the Imperial 
German spies.” 

So it was that Von Lertz was not molested 
when he returned with a high powered touring 
car driven by a competent looking chaffeur. 

“I told liim Miss Mason and I were eloping,” 
he whispered, and that you two were friends of 
hers going along as witnesses. He is willing to 
drive us clear to New York.” 

Intent only upon getting away from the 
Secret Service, Von Lertz forgot for the time be- 
ing that Count von Bernstorff, Dr. Albert with 
Captain Von Papen and Captain Boy-Ed were 
awaiting word from him that the canal had been 
dynamited successfully. More than an hour had 
elapsed since the arrest of Jacobson before Von 
Lertz remembered this matter and he ordered all 
speed to the nearest telegraph station. There it 
took him some time to prepare the message and it 
was nearly midnight before it was delivered at 


THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 295 
the Imperial German Embassy in W ashington. 

The quartet of the Kaiser’s arch conspirators 
had been waiting impatiently. All of Von Bern- 
storff’s fears in regard to the plot had been 
aroused when the time passed and no message 
was received. When the telegram did arrive he 
.was at his private telephone answering a call 
which had been received a few minutes before, 

“Why it’s from Ithaca,” exclaimed Von Papen 
who had torn open the yellow envelope, “My 
God, it says ‘failed.’ What can it mean?” 

“It means this gentlemen,” came the cold voice 
of Von Bernstorff from the doorway, “that at 
the present moment a demand is being made upon 
Imperial Germany for your recall from the 
lUnited States. I have just received information 
that Jacobson was arrested as he was leaving the 
hotel, that Koenig’s other men were arrested at 
the canal in the act of placing the dynamite. It 
means that the Secret Service had full informa- 
tion of the plot, that you have been outwitted 
straight through.” 

“They couldn’t have known,” interposed Von 
Papen. “It is some more of the infernal luck of 
Harrison Grant.” 

“They did know,” said the Imperial German 
Ambassador, “for already a conference has been 
called at the State Department. That can mean 


296 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

but one thing — ^that your part and that of Boy- 
Ed is known. It is certain that your recalls as 
attaches of the Embassy will be made. You had 
been warned. There is nothing I can do. Oh, 
how could you have made such blunders !’* 

Von Papen did not answer for a moment. Nor 
Boy-Ed. Nor Albert. Then Von Papen with a 
growl, turned to his superior. 

“We did the best we could. That is all anyone 
can do. And we have not failed yet. We may be 
recalled, but when we go, I promise you, that we 
will leave a reign of terror behind such as no 
country has ever experienced.” 


Chapter XIII. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 

Captain Franz von Papen, and Captain Karl 
Boy-Ed were spending their last hours in Ameri- 
ca as attaches of the Imperial German Embassy, 
in conference with the German Ambassador in 
the Embassy at Washington. The discovery of 
their attempt to dynamite the Welland Canal 
had caused the action by the United States Gov- 
ernment which Count von Bernstorff had pre- 
dicted. A demand had been made upon the Ger- 
man Government for their recall as accredited 
representatives of the Kaiser, and Imperial Ger- 
many had no choice in the matter. The request, 
styled in diplomatic language but in reality a 
demand which brooked no denial, was acceded to 
and already Von Bernstorff had received notice 
of the cancellation of their appointments as mili- 
tary and naval attaches, respectively, to the 
Washington Embassy. 

It was some wxeks since they had been in the 
awaiting a telegram from Heinric 
297 


same room 


29S 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

von Lertz who was in charge of the attempt on 
the Welland Canal. There had been many de- 
tails to arrange and only that same day had they 
received their passports and permission from the 
British Government to safely pass the blockade 
which had been established around Germany. 
The safe conduct passes had been a disappoint- 
ment. They were made out for separate ships 
and Von Papen and Boy-Ed had planned many 
enjoyable hours together on their journey home, 
receiving wireless reports on the success of plans 
which they were discussing with Von Bernstorff 
and Dr. Albert. 

“Von Bopp has proved a wonder at organiza- 
tion,” said Von Papen speaking of the Imperial 
German Consul General in San Francisco. “We 
have made the mistake of failing to employ our 
entire forces in a general attack. As we have 
been operating in the past we have engaged in 
but minor tasks, plans which would have resulted 
in great damage if successful but minor in the 
sense that only a small percentage of our forces 
were engaged. The result has been that the 
Secret Service has always been able to oppose us 
with an adequate force, after they have been led 
to it by the damnable luck of Harrison Grant. 
We have them hopelessly outnumbered, however, 
and in the campaign which will open as soon as 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 299 

we have left the country we propose to make 
good use of our superiority in forces. Briefly 
the plan is this. To strike with explosives and 
fires simultaneously over the entire width and 
breadth of America with a two-fold object — first 
to cut off the supplies for the Allies by destroy- 
ing the means for their manufacture and sec- 
ondly to create such a reign of terror in America 
that a declaration of war against Imperial Ger- 
many will be too fearful a thing to even contem- 
plate. Boy-Ed, will you read the latest report 
we have received from Von Bopp?” 

^‘Naturally it is in code,” responded the naval 
attache, “but I can give you the sense of it. At- 
tacks are planned upon the Canadian Pacific 
Railroad in British Columbia with the main 
damage inflicted in the Selkirk Mountains where 
a little explosive will go a long way; the blow- 
ing up of a number of troop trains, and trains 
carrying horses and explosives also in western 
Canada, in fact a general renewal of the plans in 
Canada which Koolbargen undertook but which 
resulted so badly for our cause.” 

“Before you proceed farther,” interrupted 
Von Bernstorff, “No more money is to be spent 
upon any schemes in connection with Canada. It 
is too costly for the result to be accomplished. 
Canada is practically drained now of all the help 


300 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

she will be able to extend England. Her supply 
of men is nearly exhausted, and two-thirds of 
the supplies she is sending are gotten from the 
United States. We have no one left in Canada 
to work through and the effort to get agents 
through the emigration lines is too great for the 
work that can be done. Instruct Von Bopp to 
confine his efforts to the United States.” 

“Exactly my own idea,” said Von Papen, 
“but Von Bopp is a fanatic in regard to Canada. 
His plans in regard to Canada are harmless for 
I never intended that they should be started. 
What has he to say of this country?” 

“The docks at Seattle, Vancouver, San Fran- 
cisco, San Pedro and other coastwise towns have 
received his consideration. Munition plans which 
have been suggested to him have also been care- 
fully investigated and are all available for our 
general scheme. He only w^ants orders to begin 
the work.” 

“He can wait,” said Von Papen, and then 
turning to Von Bernstorff and Albert, “you can 
appreciate the advantage of having affairs di- 
rected from San Francisco. The Secret Service 
is paying little or no attention to affairs there. 
Von Bopp, assisted by Baron Eckhart H. Von 
Schaack, his vice-consul, Lieutenant Wilhelm 
von Brincken, and a number of others, has been 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 301 

getting the necessary men, not only for his own 
territory but for operations in the middle west 
and in the east and south. Von Lertz will have 
supervision over everything east of the Rockies 
but the men who will act for him will receive 
their instructions before they leave San Fran- 
cisco. A whole week of explosions and fires in 
some of the biggest and most rushed plants in the 
country will be the result. Each night will see 
its toll taken, with the climax coming with the 
destruction of the Bethlehem big calibre gun 
works. In regard to this Von Lertz is entitled 
to a great deal of credit. The only unprotected 
portion of the plant is the coal shutes leading di- 
rectly to the fire rooms. Although the idea was 
undoubtedly suggested to him Von Lertz was 
keen enough to realize its worth. Women gather- 
ing up coal which has been spilled in the unload- 
ing of cars into these shutes, is an ordinary sight. 
Workers of ours will go to the shutes, ostensibly 
to gather waste fuel, carrying lumps of coal which 
have been hallowed out and filled with trinitite of 
toluol and will slide these chunks down the shute. 
Could any sight be prettier than the one which 
will occur when these are thrown into the fire 
boxes? The explosions which will follow will 
scatter the fires so far that nothing can save the 
plant from destruction. If any portion of it does 


802 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

escape it will be useless for the entire plant 
will be wrecked by the explosions within the fire 
boxes. Is not this plan alone, without the others 
worthy of commendation by Imperial Germany?” 

Totally unconscious of the stamp of fiendish- 
ness which he had planned upon Germany by 
asking commendation of a scheme which would 
inevitably result in horrible deaths by scalding 
and fire, of stokers whose only offense was the 
earning of an honest living by hard work. Von 
Papen paused to see the effect of this announce- 
ment upon his hearers. Albert clucked his de- 
light by clicking his tongue against his set teeth. 
Von Bernstorff smiled evilly: 

‘T might say that Germany is compensated 
for the loss of your services in America by the 
splendid work you have planned as your fare- 
well greeting,” he said. ‘T have heard enough. 
You have planned well and wisely. But let me 
caution you not to become too rash before you 
leave. Clear your office well for with your de- 
parture it will lose its sanctity, and nothing must 
be found. Now for a little service I \\dsh you to 
perform for me.” 

He opened a drawer at the table at which he 
was sitting and after unlocldng a compartment 
within it produced a pair of field glasses. Undo- 
ing a catch at the side divided the object into 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 303 

two sections showing that the interior had been 
cunningly arranged as a camera. From it he 
took two small cartridges of films. 

“Some pictures, which wi|l* amuse Hinden- 
burg,” he said handing the films to Von Papen. 
“They contain views of the military parade which 
took place this morning, and as they were taken 
through two of the finest microscopic lenses in 
the world enlarged prints will give him much in- 
formation about the state of training and the 
equipment of the American army. To me it was 
an amusing sight, comparable to a chorus in a 
musical comedy. They make a brave showing 
on dress* parade, but everyone knows that they 
are few in number, inadequate in equipment, and 
with absolutely nothing in the way of prepara- 
tion for a war.” 

“Tin soldiers who have no conception of dis- 
cipline or the rudiments of fighting,” commented 
von Papen. “I doubt if a quarter of a million 
men could be induced to enter the army if Amer- 
ica did declare war.” 

“The number who would respond would make 
no difference,” said the German Ambassador. 
“Untrained they would be slaughtered in France 
and would leave less opposition to us here when 
‘Der Tag’ arrives for America. Four years is 
the least possible time in which a civilian may be 


304 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

made into a soldier for it takes that time in 
Germany, working with the most intelligent ma- 
terial in the world and with the best equipped 
system. By that time, if training were attempted 
here, France and England will be subjugated 
and America on the defense in its own country.’^ 

Nods of approval from his three listeners gave 
assent to the fact that he had but expressed an 
idea which they all held, in fact, a belief which 
was held by the entire military party of Ger- 
many, 

‘‘And now we must say farewell,” said Boy- 
Ed, “we will not see you again for you must 
condone our indescretions and show your revul- 
sion of our methods by being unfriendly. For 
were you too friendly toward us, who have be- 
trayed* you, why even the pig-headed Americans 
might be led to suspect that Imperial Germany 
condoned, even if it did not sanction, our activi- 
ties here.” 

A hearty laugh followed this ironic sally, and 
then after leave takings, von Papen and Boy- 
Ed departed to take a train for New York, 
where many things, in addition to their packing, 
remained to be done before they sailed and the 
time was short. 

Heinric von Lertz, Madam Augusta Stephan, 
Baroness Therese Verbecht and Wolf von Igel, 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 305 

were in von Papen’s New York office when they 
arrived. 

“One matter which you will have to arrange 
yourself/' said von Papen immediately plunging 
into the matter which was engrossing the atten- 
tion of all. “With von Bopp making the ar- 
rangements for the actual explosions and fires 
with the exception of the one at Bethlehem, I 
want you to devote your time to the propaganda 
work. Have a correspondent near each place 
at the time the event occurs, prepared to exag- 
gerate everytliing in connection with it. The 
story may contain suggestions of the existence 
of a league of British and French bom working- 
men who have been active in the neighborhood 
which had for its object the stoppage of manu- 
facture of supplies for the Allies in order to pre- 
vent a war which is forcing the British and 
French workmen into the army, training women 
for their positions, doing everything to disrupt 
labor while providing capital with the means of 
intrenching itself. Arrange, if possible, to have 
German reservists in the vanguard of those who 
protect the property which remains. In each 
story emphasize the number of German reserv- 
ists in this country. You understand the ob- 
ject?” 

Von Lertz shook his head hopelessly. 


806 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


‘Tt is for this reason,” continued von Papen. 
‘'At the time when America is appreciating iti 
own helplessness, because of inability to prevent 
property destruction with the attendant loss of 
life, such stories will drive home the fact that 
Germany already has a trained army in this 
country which outnumbers the entire regular 
army of the United States. We have tried to 
persuade America, tried to make them see the 
justice of our cause, and failed. Now we will 
browbeat them into remaining neutral. 

“Stephan and Verbecht will remain under 
your orders. Von Igel will remain with me. 
Now get out, and get busy. I will see you here 
tomorrow morning before my steamer sails.” 

Von Papen turned into his private office to 
begin the pacldng of all documents, which, if they 
fell into the hands of the Secret Service, would 
reveal the full extent of the complicity of the 
Imperial German Government itself in the many 
outrages which had been committed in America. 
Madam Stephan, Baroness Verbecht and Hein- 
ric von Lertz, left the office together to separate 
when the street was reached, the two women to 
return to their own apartments and von Lertz 
to attend to some business which had suddenly 
become urgent since von Papen would expect 
a report upon it on the morrow. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 307 

Before proceeding on it, however, von Lertz 
stepped to a telephone, to speak to Dixie Mason, 
asking to be excused from a luncheon engage- 
ment with her. He did not know* how long the 
business he had in hand would take and stood in 
too wholesome fear of the departing military at- 
tache of the Imperial German Government to 
neglect it for pleasure. 

‘‘Perhaps I am derelict in my duty to my 
country,” said Dixie Mason to Harrison Grant, 
at an appointment she had arranged with him 
after she had received the telephone call from 
von Lertz. Grant had promptly extended a 
luncheon engagement and the two of them were 
seated at a window table in one of the more ex- 
clusive New York hotels. “Von Lertz is slip- 
ping away from me, and I cannot bring myself 
to make the necessary effort to hold him. Since 
the Baroness Verbecht joined the German spy 
aiTny he has found a woman who will cater to 
all of his beastly instincts, and the demands he 
makes on me are impossible.” 

“America does not demand such a sacrifice 
from her womanhood,” said Grant heatedly, “if 
such methods are necessary to gain information 
then we will go on without any information he 
can furnish us.” 

“It isn’t that he has lost confidence in my 


308 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

loyalty to his cause,” continued Dixie, after a 
grateful little nod to Grant for his understand- 
ing of her position, ‘‘but most of my informa- 
tion was gained through little chats over a din- 
ing table. Now he has no time for these be- 
tween entertaining the Baroness and his own 
work. Something is brewing, I knov/, for he is 
not with the Baroness today since she is at home. 
I haven’t the least inkling as to where he is, but 
Heinric is not such a lover of work that he 
will do it for the mere sake of having it done. 
It means he is doing something under instruc- 
tions, and that means something against Amer- 
ica.” 

“Nothing 'will be attempted until after von 
Papen and BoyEd are safely out of the coun- 
try,” said Grant, “and by that time we may strike 
a lead of some kind.” 

“If only you could bring yourself to meet 
Madam Stephan half way,” bantered Dixie, for 
the admiration which the German woman spy 
had for him was an aggravating matter to the 
president of the Criminology Club. “I think 
she Imows what it is all about and might tell you 
in return for just a little affection.” 

“Please, please,” said Grant, “but tell me, how 
does she feel about the way in which the Baron- 
ess is pushing her out of her position as leader 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 309 

of the women spies because of the attraction von 
Lertz has found in the Baroness?” 

“Much hurt at it, for she has a sincere affec- 
tion for Heiny.” 

“Do you think a letter from me appealing to 
jealousy might result in a confession from her?” 

“No,” answered Dixie after a thoughtful 
pause. “She is intensely loyal to the master 
she serves and will let nothing personal interfere 
with that. No information could be gotten from 
her because of the deflection of von Lertz un- 
less something happens. But I have to leave 
you, it is understood that you will keep von 
Papen in sight until he is on his steamer and I 
am to do the same for Boy-Ed.” 

Dixie found that circumstances aided her 
greatly in the task she had selected for herself. 
Despite the fact that von Papen and Boy-Ed 
were being dismissed in disgrace, a large num- 
ber of people called at the office which housed 
both of them to wish bon voyage to the dis- 
credited emissaries. When she arrived at the of- 
fice she found that Baroness Verbecht, Madam 
Stephan and von Lertz were already closeted 
with von Papen and that Boy-Ed was receiving 
all the callers who were of sufficient importance 
to be met personally. So it naturally fell to 
Dixie, as an intimate of both the former Em- 


310 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

bassy aides, to act as hostess to the throng which 
gathered. 

It wafi to her liking. She flitted here, there 
and everywhere throughout the offices, greeting 
a person here, and bidding adieu to one there, 
but all the time with her eyes open for any in- 
formation which might be of value. Only one 
thing did she find. This was a bill submitted by 
a telegraph company which von Igel was work- 
ing upon, checking on the receipt of the message 
from the office files. To aid himself he had care- 
fully written on the blank the name of the sender 
of the message, or the name of the person to 
whom it had been sent. The frequent repetition 
of “Von Bopp” on the blank caused Dixie to 
pocket it for future investigation. Another 
thing which she noticed was that Boy-Ed was 
sending most of his personal and private papers 
into von Papen’s rooms, which led to the sur- 
mise that von Papen had undertaken the task of 
caring for all the important papers of the office. 

It was of this she first spoke when she met 
Harrison Grant after both von Papen and Boy- 
Ed had been escorted to their separate boats. 

“It is a shame that we had to observe ih^ 
rules of civilized nations by letting them take 
those papers,” she said, “when they themselves 
have violated ervery one.” 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 311 

‘T noticed how careful von Papen was of two 
bags, a portfolio and one trunk,” said Grant, “so 
I have cabled the British authorities that it might 
not be amiss to search them for information 
which might be of comfort to the enemy when 
the ship touches at Falmouth.” 

“Oh, good,” exclaimed Dixie. “And now I 
am starting for San Francisco this afternoon. I 
think I have a lead worth working on.” 

Then she told him of her reasons for wanting 
to watch the movements of Franz von Bopp, the 
Imperial German Consul General at San Fran- 
cisco. Grant heartily agreed with her. Then 
on finding that she had already engaged her train 
he accompanied her to the station and saw her 
start on her week’s journey. 

He chafed at the idleness which confronteid 
him. Shadows had been sent on the Baroness, 
Madam Stephan and von Lertz, as well as others 
who had been active in previous German activi- 
tie:S. Von Lertz was reported as having inter- 
viewed and retained the services of a larger num- 
ber of publicists whom he had dispatched to vari- 
ous parts of the country. Grant decided that 
perhaps acts of violence as a part of the Ger- 
man propaganda were to end with the departure 
of the two arch-conspirators, and that von Lertz 


312 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


was directing a campaign of publicity work in 
an effort to regain American sympathy. 

Finally through sheer inactivity he began 
thinking of the letter to Madam Stephan of 
which he had spoken to Dixie. He finally de- 
cided that sending it could do no harm, and be 
dispatched a short note, telling her that it might 
be wise for her own safety to give up any in- 
formation she might possess. 

The note was destined to have a far reaching 
effect, but not in the way in which Grant thought. 
Madam Stephan received it and after reading 
it tore it to small pieces, enraged at the idea that 
Grant had such a poor opinion of her that he 
could believe she would turn informer. Baroness 
Verbecht called a short time later while Madam 
Stephan was busy with her morning toilet. The 
Baroness was a natural spy and when she sav/ the 
torn bits of letter on the table she gathered them 
up carefully, and carried them with her when she 
left. At her own apartment she spent the day 
piecing them together until the whole note stood 
revealed. Then she had a hearty laugh at the 
stupidity of the American who would expect an 
agent of the Wilhelmstrasse to turn informer 
and brave the mighty wrath of Imperial Ger- 
many. 

The dispatch published the following day. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 313 

however, telling of the seizure of von Papen’s 
papers at Falmouth caused her to think of the 
letter. A plan whereby she could put Madam 
Stephan in a position where she could no longer 
claim the leadership of the women spies of thei 
Kaiser in America occurred to her and she put 
it into instant execution. 

She hurried to the former office of von Papen 
where, as she expected, she found von Lertz seeth- 
ing with rage at tliis new disaster to Germany. 
She had counted upon rage and fear dulling the 
never too sharp wits of von Lertz, and he was 
in the mood which she had anticipated willing to 
believe almost any explanation. 

‘‘How, how could they have known of those 
papers, check stubs and everything else which 
should have been destroyed, instead of being 
takqn to Germany as proof of our fidelity?” he 
groaned. 

“Here is your explanation,” said the Baroness 
extending the note to Madam Stephan from 
Grant on the letterhead of the Criminology Club. 
The fact that it was undated made her story 
plausible. “She received that five days ago and 
since then I have watched her. She has met 
Grant four times and was with him four days 
ago when he sent a long cablegram to England. 
I could not get the contents of that message but 


814 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

it was without a doubt notification of the papers 
which von ” 

But von Lertz had not waited to hear her fin- 
ish. He had fallen a ready victim to Baroness 
Verbecht’s scheme for discrediting Madam 
Stephan and had dashed from the office to con- 
front the supposed traitor with her perfidy. 

He was forced to wait at her apartment, for 
Madam had not yet arisen and as he strode up 
and doTvn in her study his rage momentarily in- 
creased. An open book lay on the table. Hard- 
ly aware of what he was doing he picked it up 
and read two or three passages before he even 
noted the title. 

“Bah,” he suddenly exclaimed in disgust. “ ‘A 
Tale of Two Cities.’ She has so far forgotten 
Germany that she turns to English books for 
entertainment.” 

Then Madam Stephan entered the room. 
Enraged at the cool unruffled appearance of the 
woman he hurled forth a violent denunciation of 
her as a being unworthy of the respect of any- 
one, and ending by accusing her of being a traitor 
to Germany. A finer grained man would have 
read the falsity of the charge in the effect the 
accusation of disloyalty had upon Madam Ste- 
phan. In the moment she was turned from a 
bright, vibrant, keenly alert woman to a crushed. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 315 

heart-broken, dull eyed, horror stricken, plead- 
ing wretch. 

“No, Heinric, no,” she moaned, falling to the 
floor at his feiet. “Tell me that you don’t mean 
it. I have forgotten compassion, sympathy and 
kindness that I might be faithful to Geimany. 
I have given my every thought, my life, my right 
to love and happiness, and even virtue itself to 
carry out Germany’s command. Am I not now 
even worthy of trust?” 

Her voice had gained in strength as she made 
her plea, and she paused, kneeling, with tear 
streamed face upturned, and out-stretched arms. 

Even the dull witted Heinric von Lertz was 
affected by the sincerity of the appeal, but it was 
not for a German gentleman, a disciple of Hun 
Kultur, to weaken at the misery of a woman. 

“Imperial Germany demands that your fealty 
be above question, or that you die,” he said 
brusquely. “Unless you can send me absolute 
proof ^vithin one week that you have communi- 
cated in no way with Harrison Grant you must 
die. One week of grace I grant you, because 
last night the reign of terror for America began, 
and I will be vejiy busy. One week from today 
— absolute proof or death.” 

As he was talking Madam Stephan had fallen 
forward and had grasped him tightly around the 


316 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


knees. As he finished* von Lertz disentangled 
the clutching arms, threw her violently to tha 
floor and hurried from the apartment. Madam 
Stephan lay still. A faint had quieted for the 
time being her tortured brain. 

Von Lertz had spoken truly of being busy. 
As he re-entered his office von Igel met him. 

“There was a long distance telephone call,” 
said von Papen’s former secretary. “The mes- 
sage was ‘O. K. at Buffalo’ and also this tele- 
gram.” 

Von Lertz grasped the yellow envelope and 
hastened into the former private office of the 
military attache. There he took a long list of 
cities in America from his pocket and put a check 
after Buffalo. Then he tore open the telegram. 

“O. K. at Wilmington,” read the printed mes- 
sage. 

And throughout the day similar messages con- 
tinued to arrive from all parts of the country, 
each denoting the destruction by fire or explos- 
ion of American property and in many instances 
American lives. Many were from the West for 
Franz von Bopp was busy. As proof after proof 
came to his hand that the crimes were proceeding 
unmolested, showing that the Secret Service had 
been totally unwarned, von Lertz thought of 
Madam Stephan. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 317 

‘T must see her tomorrow,” he told himself 
as he closed his desk late that night. “Perhaps 
there is a mistake, but I am too tired tonight.” 

He overslept the next morning and arose too 
late to stop at her apartments before he was due 
at his office, and by this little chance happening 
the entire course of Franz von Papen’s reign of 
terror for America was changed. Madam Ste- 
phan, following her recovery from the first shock 
of the accusation had set herself to thinking 
clearly. She knew of the mental processes of 
Heinric von Lertz, and as she noted the success 
of the plot she felt there was hope for her. When 
the morning papers of the following day showed 
more explosions and more fires she became al- 
most cheerful. Then the noon editions of the 
daily papers dashed her hopes to the ground. 

Franz von Bopp’s office in San Francisco had 
been raided by the Secret Service. The papers 
hinted that much documentary evidence of Ger- 
man plots had been seized. Many prisoners had 
been taken. But Dixie Mason who had caused 
the raid was uneasy. Evidence had been gained 
of plots for explosions and fires on the western 
coast, but explanations of the crimes in the east 
had not been found, and the little Secret Service 
operative knew that but half her work had been 
done. 


318 THE EAGLE’S EYE 

The effect of the news upon Madam Stephan 
was startling. She? dismissed any hope of being 
able to prove her innocence to such a man as 
Heinric von Lertz. She thought of how differ- 
ent it would be if he were a man of the type of 
Harrison Grant. Then in a flash the whole 
truth burst upon her. She realized in a twink- 
ling the entire falsity, the utter worthlessness of 
a system which could elevate a man of von Lertz’s 
calibre to the position he occupied. She appre- 
ciated the vileness of the crimes in which she had 
participated and gained an understanding of the 
glorious things for which American ideals stood. 
With the thought came a decision based upon 
the fineness of her nature which she had sup- 
pressed during her entire life. She called for her 
wraps. It was as a woman new born that she 
left her apartment. She was a woman arrayed 
on the side of humanity as against Imperial Ger- 
many. 

She made her way straight to the Criminology 
Club. As she walked she wondered how she 
could ever have thought that the thing she was 
about to do was abhorrent, how she could ever 
have thought of it as anjdhing but her bounden 
duty to humanity. At the club the announce- 
ment that she was awaiting him made Harrison 
Grant start eagerly. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 319 

For two nights he had gone without sleep, 
working incessantly, trying to get some clew 
which would expose the whole of the plot. He 
knew of the messages which were being received 
by Heinric von Lertz, but the coincidence of each 
being from a city in which a fire or explosion 
had taken place was not sufficient evidence to 
warrant a raid. The new.s of the raid in San 
Francisco had not aroused hope, for he had re- 
ceived a long message from Dixie Mason telhng 
of everything found in the offices and he realized 
that he still had before him his work of stopping 
the reign of terror in thq East, without aid to 
be expected from anywhere. So he grasped the 
outstretched hand of Madam Stephan eagerly. 

“You came in response to my letter?” he 
asked. 

“I had scarcely thought of that,” responded 
Madam Stephan. “I have come as a true friend 
of the German people. Mr. Grant, I love my 
people and my country. Events of the past two 
days, of which you need never know, have shown 
me that it is only through the destruction of * Im- 
perial Germany and everything for which it 
stands, that they, my people and my country, can 
take thQ place I want them to have in the world. 
Misguided as they have been from birth they 
cannot throw off the yoke. With America’s help 


320 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


it can be done. So I# am here to aid America. 
I will be compensated if I bring the day of Ger- 
many’s salvation, the day upon which the horizon 
of humanity is revealed to the German people, 
as it has been revealed to me today, one hour 
nearer.” 

She then related quickly all that she knew of 
von Papen’s plan for a reign of terror in 
America. 

“Heinric von Lertz will not v/ait until the 
day set for the destruction of the Bethlehem steel 
works to attempt it,” she said. “The news from 
San Francisco will cause him to attempt the 
climax of the plot planned by von Papen be- 
fore it is discovered. Even now he may be start- 
ing on it.” 

She then gave him the address of the artisan 
in Harlem who was inserting explosives in the 
hollow lumps of coal for use at Bethlehem. Grant 
tarried hardly longer than w^as required to ex- 
press his thanks after receiving this information 
and hurried av/ay. 

But he and his men arrived too late. Evidence 
aplenty was found to prove that Madam 
Stephan’s description of the work that was be- 
ing done had been true. But the three men who 
had occupied it were gone. 

“Tliey left but a moment since, sir,” volun- 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 321 

teered a woman who lived on the same floor. “A 
sleek light mustached young man called, and 
they lefft with some satchels in a taxicab.” 

So Heinric von Lertz had taken the course 
which Madam Stephan expected of him. Grant 
did some quick thinking. Hastily running over 
timetables which he carried in his pocket he found 
that a train was leaving shortly for Bethlehem 
and taking a long chance he ordered his men 
back into the machine that had taken them to 
disregard speed regulations and quickly arrived 
at the station. 

With but a few minutes to spare they burst 
into the large train room. Suddenly Grant 
raised his arm and pointed. Heinric von Lertz 
wa;S at one of the track gates talking earnestly 
to three men. 

“Stewart, Cavanaugh, coma with me, we must 
keep out of sight of von Lertz,” cautioned Grant. 
“You other men are not known to him. Keep 
the men to whom he is talking, in sight. We will 
meet you on the train.” 

Grant, and his two most trusted men, found 
their way to the train through the employee s 
gate, opened to them by their Secret Service 
badges. On the train he found the three Ger- 
man conspirators well covered by his mep. V on 


322 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Lertz had not boarded the train, according to a 
report of one of the operatives. 

It was after night-fall when the train landed 
them in Bethlehem. The sky was lurid with the 
glare from the big gun works, incessantly turn- 
ing out large calibre artillery, by means of three 
shifts of workmen who kept the wheels turning 
night and day. The three conspirators slunk off 
into the shadows leading toward the settlement 
of the foreign laborers in the big plant, closely 
followed by Grant and his men. 

In one of the poorest sections of the city the 
men mounted an outer rstairway leading to the 
top floor of a two-storied building. After some 
delay they were admitted. Ten minutes later 
the figure of a woman came down the stairway, 
stepping cautiously and carrying gingerly some 
objects in her apron. Hastily assigning two men 
to keep her in sight, he organized the remainder 
of his force for a raid. 

Despite a desperate resistance the four men 
found in the upper part of the house were 
quickly overcome. One grip filled with the doc- 
tored coal was seized and on the floor lay the dis- 
carded outer clothing of a man. Taking only 
Stewart with him Grant started in pursuit of the 
figure which had left the house, a figmq which he 
now felt sure was one of the three men who had 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 32a 

come from New York now dressed as a woman. 

The conspirator because of his acquaintance 
with tha neighborhood had easily eluded the two 
men who were shadowing him. Grant came upon 
them hopelessly searching to pick up his trail. 
Without delaj^ng Grant started, running at top 
speed, toward the coal shutes. 

The conspirator was already there and was 
busy dropping bombs down the shutqs. Grant 
fired one shot, but missed, due to the uncertain 
light. The man at once fled and sending Cav- 
anaugh and the others in pursuit Grant ran to 
the nearest shute. Without hesitation he dropped 
into the yawning black pit of its mouth. 

A second later, bruised and covered with coal 
soot, he rolled into the boiler room of the big 
plants. Springing hastily to his feet, he/ tore his 
coat aside to show his Secret Service shield. 

“Stop, men,” he shouted. “Not another* 
shovelful until we have examined the coal.” 

He stooped, for almost at his feet lay a chunk 
of coal which he recognized as being of the same 
kind used for making the bombs. It was larger 
than the ordinary screenings used in the fur- 
naces, but would never have attracted attention 
for large lumps were frequently found. Pick- 
ing up the piece that had excited his suspicions. 
Grant found one side was of black card board. 


324 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

Hastily he peeled it off, and held it up before 
the astonished stokers, who had been watching 
him wild eyed, a tube filled with the most power- 
ful explosive known! 

Orders were given hastily. The firing pits 
were all emptied and the coal taken away for re- 
screening. Fresh cars were rushed up to the 
shutes and before the steam had dropped below 
the point where it would not drive the engines 
fresh coal, safe coal, was being poured into the 
gigantic fire boxes. Grant’s work was done and 
he repaired to town to wash and dress. Hardly 
had he restored his usual immaculate appear- 
ance when his men arrived to report that the spy 
at the shutes had been captured and was in jail 
with his fellow conspirators. 

Then telegrams began to arrive, forwarded 
from the Criminology Club in New York. They 
told of raid after raid which had been made, each 
nipping a plot in its budding, each conducted on 
information furnished by Madam Stephan. Not 
one of Imperial Germany’s attempts had been 
successful. Grant’s last waking thought that 
night, was of two womejn. 

“Dixie and I must see to it,” he murmured 
sleepily, “that Madam Stephan is given oppor- 
tunity to appreciate to the full the life of free- 
dom to which she has just awakened.” 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 325 

But Madam Stqphan had already made the 
supreme sacrifice. She was lying at that moment 
in her apartment, dead, a bullet wound in her 
heart, victim of a system the full extent of which 
she had not yet realized although she had been a 
member of it. An hour before her maid had re- 
quested the evening out and had appeared at the 
office of Heinric von Lertz. He had scarcely 
noticed her for message after message had 
reached him of the frustrations of the various 
plots of destruction, and he was nearly frenzied. 
Suddenly he was drawn up taut. The maid had 
given him the secret sign of the Imperial German 
spy army. 

“You, you,” he gasped. 

“Yes,” she answered without emotion. “Eight 
years have I served Madam Stephan as personal 
maid on guard against the moment which has 
now arrived. She gave information to Harrison 
Grant at the Criminology Club, and I have come 
to remind you of your duty.” 

The heart of Heinric von Lertz became cold 
with fear. So this was the way Germany trusted 
her most confidential workers. He wondered of 
his own valet, of his housekeeper, of everyone 
whose respect he had thought he held. Me- 
chanically he put on his coat and hat. He talked 
aimlessly as they rode toward Madam Stephan’s 


326 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 

apartment, wondering, thinking of the relentless 
grip Germany held upon her spies. 

At the door to Madam’s apartment the maid 
pushed something into his hand. He shuddered 
as he felt it to be a revolver. 

“It is her own,” said the maid in a cold lifeless 
voice, “so it makes no difference which one of you 
use it. You will find her in the library.” 

As ,she was speaking she had slipped her latch 
key into the lock and had entered. Von Lertz 
followed in a semi-daze, and walked alone into 
the library. 

‘"‘Mad’am Stephan, I have come to claim the 
debt you owe Imperial Germany,” he said in a 
voice which he hardly recognized as his own. Me- 
chanically he thrust the revolver toward her. 

Madam Stephan -started to her feet from the 
easy chair in which she had been reclining. One 
look at the pallid, set face of von Lertz con- 
vinced her of the desperateness of her position. 
Life had become very sweet to her after her inti- 
mate talk with Harrison Grant. She made a 
sudden lunge at von Lertz. 

She had just reached him when there came the 
muffled report of a revolver shot smothered in 
clothing. Von Lertz had reversed the weapon 
and pulled the trigger. Madam Stephan stag- 
gered back and then fell full length on the floor. 


THE REIGN OF TERROR 327 

her life blood oozing out through a wound which 
had penetrated her heart. 

As von Lertz stood aghast gazing at the re>- 
sult of his handiwork the maid entered. She took 
the revolver from his nerveless hand and stoop- 
ing by the body of her former mistress twisted 
the fingers of the right hand, already cooling in 
death, about the handle and the trigger. Then 
she walked to tl cable and picking up a book, 
opened it, and began marking a passage. 

“This will be absolute proof of her suicide,” 
she remarked calmly. “It occurred to me this 
afternoon. You know she had been reading 
Dickens, expecting to be ordered to England any 
day for work.” 

Von Lertz dully took the book which was ex- 
tended to him. He recognized it as the copy of 
“A Tale of Two Cities,” which he had examined 
but a few days previously. He saw the sentence 
which the maid had underlined: 

“It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have 
ever done, it is a far, far better rest that I go to, 
than I have ever known.” 

He stood motionless as the maid took the book 
from him and placed it on tho table where the 
message would be the first thing to catch the eye 
of an investigator. 


Chapter XIV 


THE MENACE OF THE I. W, W. 

Since the attempt on the part of Imperial Ger- 
many to foment a strike of the ’longshoremen 
on the Atlanti(rand Pacific seacoasts as a means 
of preventing shipments of supplies and muni- 
tions to the Allies, the Secret Service had been 
continually on the alert against other attempts 
to cause trouble in various branches of organized 
labor. In this work the unions of America had 
given more than a hearty co-operation. Com- 
mittees of members were appointed to confer 
with the Secret Service to learn the best means 
of detecting efforts af German agents to inter- 
fere with any industry by agitation among the 
workers. American labor proved itself loyal to 
the core. 

Germany had made numerous attempts to 
create havoc in the American manufacturing 
plants by using various methods to entice work- 
ingmen away from their daily tasks. In many 
instances, the old method of agitation against 
328 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 329 

conditions was tried. Subtler attacks were em- 
ployed elsewhere. Tempting offers of employ- 
ment at their trade in distant cities, with trans- 
portation paid, were made on condition that a 
sufficient number of workmen would join the mi- 
grating colony. Cunningly worded stories of 
fictitious dangers which confronted workers in 
various occupations were inserted in printed mat- 
ter which was designed to reach wives, mothers 
and sweethearts, but every effort failed, because 
of the intense loyalty of the unions. 

“Repoii: anything which may cause two or 
more workingmen to leave the place where they 
are employed now,” was the request made by the 
Secret Service. Members of the special commit- 
tees, by ever watchful vigilance, detected the ef- 
forts of Germany at their inception. 

Complaints against conditions were usually 
proved groundless by the Secret Service. In 
cases where the workingmen were not receiving 
fair treatment, a word to the owner was usually 
sufficient to correct the trouble, for the manu- 
facturers had combined with the workers in pre- 
venting Germany from being successful in its 
plotting. The ideal positions which existed at 
distant points were proved to be phantoms. The 
Hun-inspired stories of dangers existing through 
the handling of various substances were denied 


330 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


by authoritative sources which could leave no 
doubt in the mind of the families of the workers. 
This was the work which the Secret Service had 
been doing in conjunction with labor since the 
attempt to foment the ’longshoremen’s strike had 
been baffled. 

Harrison Grant, president of the Criminology 
Club, and Dixie Mason, the pretty little Secret 
Service operative, had often discussed reports of 
these activities of German agents. Von Bern- 
storff, and his aides, had followed the traditional 
course in each effort, using members of the 
Kaiser’s spy army in America to do the actual 
work of enticement or intimidation. Then this 
department of activity against America by the 
Huns suddenly stopped. Agents of the Kaiser 
no longer sought membership in unions, control 
of labor papers was relinquished by Dr. Hein- 
rich Albert, the paymaster of the spy army, and 
it seemed that Germany had admitted defeat 
through the loyalty of American worldngmen. 

But neither Grant nor Dixie were deceived. 
Through the wireless in the Criminology Club, 
and through phonographic attachments at other 
stations confidential messages between the Wil- 
helmstrasse and the Imperial German Embassy 
in Washington were picked out of the air and 
later the secrets of the coded messages were de- 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 331 

ciphered. Through these Grant and Dixie knew 
that Germany’s demands for successful demorali- 
zation of American labor had become more and 
more insistent as eiforis of the spy army met 
with failure after failure. Then the demands 
suddenly ceased without any apparent reason 
and the president of the Criminology Club and 
the young Secret Service operative, through their 
intimate knowledge of Hun methods, felt that 
Von Bernstorff had sent a written report to Ber- 
lin of some plot which promised success if time 
were given for its prosecution and fulfillment. 

So no vigilance was relaxed. The labor com- 
mittees were warned against falling into a false 
feeling of security because of the apparent in- 
activity of Imperial Germany. Many months 
of w^atchful waiting followed, and then came the 
first rumbling of a storm which threatened the 
w’^hole existence of labor, a storm which actually 
accomplished the destruction of millions of dol- 
lars worth of wheat and other cereal supplies. 

It was the outbreak of the Industrial Workers 
of the World, an organization which is more 
readily recognized by its initials — I. W. W., 
formed originally by a cracked-brain, illogical 
theorist to agitate the doctrine that a worker is 
entitled to the gross proceeds of his labor and it 
attracted to its membership radicals from all over 


332 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


the world. It always proceeded on the lines of 
anarchism — destruction to anything which im- 
peded its progress. The cry of higher and better 
wages attracted a great many workingmen when 
it was first introduced into this country, but they 
soon dropped away. The utter absurdity of a 
theory that a laborer could increase his earnings 
by insisting that he receive everything that he 
produced without any thought of the working- 
men who had produced the tools and the material 
vdth which he worked, soon stopped the growth 
of the membership and then a sudden slump in 
the number of supporters until only professional 
agitators could be found in the organization. 
Even these soon deserted for they agitated only 
for the money that there was to be acquired and 
the treasury of the I. W. W. was depleted to a 
point where it was no longer a shining target for 
the greed of the professional trouble maker who 
found more profitable organizations elsewhere. 

Then the I. W. W. suddenly acquired appar- 
ently unlimited money from some source. Agita- 
tors from everywhere flocked to its standards 
which was the surest sign that the treasury was 
well filled. There were indications also that some 
sane person had planned out a definite campaign 
for the organization to follow under the guise of 
agitating only the theory for which it stood. 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 333 

Groups of I. W. W. workers appeared in indus- 
trial centers in every part of the country. They 
harangued against the conscription of British 
and French labor as they afterward argued for 
the resistance of the draft in America. They 
pleaded for general strikes everywhere, ostensi- 
bly as a means of getting for the worker all the 
wealth he produced. In every way they played 
the part v/hich Imperial Germany had attempted 
but had failed because of the inabihty of the 
members of the spy army to inspire the confi- 
dence of the American w^orkers. 

The I. W. W. w^as different in method from 
the individual Hun spies. It held open its ranks 
to workers. It exhibited a w^ell filled treasm’y 
and offered good pay. Many of the lazier and 
reckless members of the unions wxre induced to 
enroll, but in the main the American working- 
man recognized it for its worthlessness and left it 
alone. But the I. W. W. was prepared for this 
attitude on the part of the workers and took mea- 
sures to coerce them. 

Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason were in the 
vanguard of the forces which w^ere detailed to 
resist the revitalized I. W. W. Both had a well 
definited theory as to where the unexpected 
w^ealth had come from, and knew that in meeting 
the agitation of the I. W. W. they were in reality 


334 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


working against another German plot in 
America. Raid after raid was made on local 
headquarters of the I. W. W. and many prison- 
ers were made and haled into court on charges 
of almost every felony on the docket, from mur- 
der down. Yet the organization continued to 
flourish. Outbreaks occurred all over America, 
some serious, others quelled almost before they 
were started. 

Grant and Dixie devoted their time to inves- 
tigation and very seldom were engaged on a par- 
ticular case when the time for raiding came. They 
discovered the plotters, an outline of the object 
toward which they were working, then turned the 
clearly defined trail over to other less skilled 
workers to pursue, while they gave attention to 
other fields which indicated a plot was brewing. 
Masses of documents teaching sabotage, destruc- 
tion of all sorts, the making and firing of bombs, 
sedition and many other things detrimental to 
the industrial health and strength of a nation 
were the natural accompaniment of every raid. 
Sabotage was the most dangerous of all and it 
was to this branch of the I. W. W. activity to 
which Grant and Dixie devoted most of their 
time. 

Machinery in various plants suddenly broke 
down, despite the reliability of its manufacturers. 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 335 

Grant and Dixie discovered that emery powder 
had been mixed with lubricating oil, and as a re- 
sult locks were placed on lubricating cups, and 
trusted men attended to the duties of oiling^ 
using only oil that had been strained and in- 
spected and kept under lock and key. There 
were epidemics- of typhoid in colonies of workers 
and after their first investigation Grant and 
Dixie made a report which put every health of- 
ficer in the country on guard against diverted 
sewage. 

Then came the fires in. the wheatfields of the 
country. Grant and Dixie were already on their 
way to Minnesota when the announcement was 
made that their fields burst into fiames under 
their own eyes, without another person being in 
sight. But Grant and Dixie did not accept this 
explanation. They knew that almost an5rthing 
was possible where there was money to be ob-, 
tained and they knew that Germany was supply- 
ing funds recklessly. 

Convinced that the fires were of incendiary ori- 
gin, despite the testimony of the farmers. Grant 
and Dixie went directly to one of the devastated 
fields. There was nothing to be seen except acre 
after acre of charred soil where a few days earlier 
had stood bushels and bushels of wheat ready for 
harvest. The farmer pointed out to them the 


336 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


spot where the fire had started. Grant began an 
examination of the ground, while Dixie looked 
over the surrounding country. A railroad ran 
about a quarter of a mile distant. 

^Tt couldn’t have been a spark from an en- 
gine?” she asked the farmer. 

“Not a chance,” he responded. “Every engine 
has a sieve in its stack, and anyway there hadn’t 
been a train pass within two hours of the time this 
fire started.” 

“Will meet you at the hotel tonight,” Dixie 
called to Grant, and started across the field 
toward the tracks. 

“Loan me your handkerchief, will you?” 

It was a call from Grant, and it caused the 
farmer to turn from watching the pleasing, trim 
figure of Dixie Mason making her way across the 
field. He saw that Grant had already filled his 
own handkerchief with soil dug out of the field. 
Grant took the spacious piece of cloth which the 
farmer handed him wonderingly, and walking 
nearly a hundred feet from where he had taken 
his original sample of the soil, he knelt down and 
with his pocket knife dug up another generous 
clod and put that in the farmer’s handkerchief. 
Then picking up both handkerchiefs, he turned 
to the farmer; 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. SS7 


“Can you drive me right into town? I have 
some work to do.” 

“Sure,” answered the farmer, impressed by 
Grant’s manner, and then his curiosity prompted 
the question, “Have you found gold or oil?” 

“Maybe something more valuable than either 
to the wheat farmer,” answered Grant. “I think 
I have found the cause of the fires in the wheat 
fields, but will know for a certainty by tonight.” 

The farmer asked no more questions but hur- 
ried away, soon to re-appear an. the road near the 
field at the wheel of a speedy httle roadster. On 
the way into town several more fields which had 
been shorn of their yield by fire were passed and 
Grant stopped at each one of them. He walked 
over their blackened lengths carefully until evi- 
dently the thing for which he searched was dis- 
covered. Then as before he took a sample of the 
soil and a second sample many yards distant 
from the first position. By the time the little road- 
ster drove up in front of the one hotel in the near- 
est city the pockets of both men were filled with 
Minnesota soil. 

They had already made a stop at a drug store 
where Grant taxed the stock of the proprietor 
with the demands he made. He succeeded in get- 
ting everything that he wanted, acids, salts and 
other things of which the farmer had never heard. 


838 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Once in Grant^s room at the hotel, the president 
of the Criminology Club spread out a large piece 
of white paper on the floor. On it he marked 
several circles in parellel rows. 

“Empty your right hand pockets on this side, 
and put the soil from your left hand pockets on 
this side,” he ordered briefly, and then in re- 
sponse to the mute request on the face of the 
farmer he added, “Yes, stay if you want to,” and 
began emptying his own pockets* 

With the soil samples from various flelds ar- 
ranged in neat piles on the white paper Grant set 
to work on matters which were, for the most part, 
mysterious to the farmer. A Bunsen burner was 
connected with the chandelier in the room. Small 
portions of the soil from each pile were placed 
in separate test tubes. Then- each was heated, 
mixed with small portions of the matter from the 
various bottles and packages which had been got- 
ten at the drug store. Each test tube was treated 
in identically the same way and as he flnished 
with each one Grant entered figures in his note 
book. He was working on the last tube when a 
knock came on the door, and in response to 
Grant’s “Come” the door opened and Dixie 
Mason entered. The little Secret Service opera- 
tive remained silent while Grant finished the test 
tube. He jotted some figures in his note book. 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 339 

then siiapped it shut, and turned toward her 
smiling. 

“You have discovered something?” Dixie 
asked. 

“I think so,” answered Grant. “But first let 
us hear what you have discovered, to see if it fits 
in with my find.” 

“It isn’t an awful lot,” answered Dixie. “In 
the first place every fire has started in the por- 
tion of the field nearest to. the road or a railroad, 
and almost invariably there has been water near 
the place where the fire started. The only 
strangers which have been observed in the vicinity 
were a couple of traveling geologists, who did 
most of their traveling on foot and carried the 
samples they had collected in little cloth bags. 
That is about all.” 

“It is enough,” said Grant. “The point of 
origin of the fire in the first field I examined at- 
tracted my attention because it had been burned 
with a more intense heat than burning grain 
would make. I took a sample there and then for 
purposes of comparison took another sample of 
the soil some distance away. It was easy to de- 
termine the place of the origin of the fires in the 
other fields, for in each place I found a spot where 
there had been intense heat. The samples from 
these spots which I have analyzed show a large 


340 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


percentage of phosphorus oxide, while the other 
samples are free from it. Phosphorus oxide is 
formed by the burning of phosphorus.” 

“Which makes it very clear as to how the fires 
started,” commented Dixie. 

“It may be to you,” interjected the farmer, 
“but I can’t see what started the phosphorus 
burning even if some was placed in the field.” 

“Phosphorus has a peculiar property,” ex- 
plained Grant. “When it is in a certain degree 
of solution it unites readily with the oxygen in 
the air, which is merely another way of saying 
that it bums. The burning of the wheat fields is 
an example of the methods of the I. W. W. 
prompted by Imperial Germany’s desire to keep 
supplies of food from reaching the Allies. These 
bogus geologists had small bags filled with dry 
phosphorus. To accomplish their design it was 
merely necessary to give the bag a soaking with 
water and throw it into a field. Several hours 
afterward when the sun had dried the phosphorus 
to the degree of solution where it unites with the 
air it would burst into flame and ignite the 
wheat.” 

As a convincing demonstration to the farmer 
Grant procured a small piece of phosphorus and 
showed him how it would start burning by merely 
dropping it into water. 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 841 

“You see it floats when placed on water,” said 
Grant as the farmer watched the little blue flame 
with changing expressions. “The underpaii: is 
too thoroughly saturated while the top part is 
dry. Between there is a section which is at the 
proper percentage of solution and hence the 
burning.” 

“Let me assure you,” said the farmer finally 
with a set jaw, “that the wheat lands are going 
to be a mighty unhealthy place from now on, for 
I. W. W.’s, Germ'an spies or anyone else carry- 
ing little sacks of anything.” 

“I can give you the assurance,” said Grant, 
“that from now on it will be a very risky thing 
for a person to try to purchase phosphorus any- 
where in the country unless he can prove a legiti- 
mate use for it.” 

Dixie and Grant started back for New York 
that night, for every moment which they could 
spare was devoted to Von Bemstorff, Dr. Albert 
and Heinric von Lertz in an effort to gain the 
evidence which they knew existed that Germany 
was supplying the I. W. W. with the funds by 
which the agitators were spreading havoc 
throughout the country. But they were destined 
not to reach there, at least not until several weeks 
later. A telegram forwarded from the Crim- 


342 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


inology Club was handed to Grant on the train 
while it was speeding through Ohio. 

“Will you see me at your earliest convenience.” 

That was the wording of the message and the 
fact that it was signed by Mrs. Blank, the wife 
of an unscrupulous broker who had virtually 
sold her to Von Bernstorff in return for tips 
which he might receive which would be profitable 
on the stock market in case' Germany’s plots were 
successful, caused Grant to alight at the next 
station and call her on the long distance tele- 
phone. 

“Von Bernstorff was here,” came the voice of 
Mrs. Blank over the wire, “raging about the part 
I took in the arrest of Baroness Verbecht. He 
tried to find out if I was allied with the Secret 
Service and offered me any amount of money to 
assure my allegiance to him and Germany. In 
making the offer he drew his wallet from his 
pocket and banged it down on the table scatter- 
ing papers right and left. He gathered them up 
hastily but I saw one, a telegram from Von 
Lertz, at Old Forge, Pennsylvania. It read sim- 
ply ‘Progress favorable.’ ” 

“Old Forge is a place where they had an excit- 
ing time with the I. W. W. several weeks ago,” 
commented Grant, after he had hung up the re- 
ceiver, to Dixie who had gotten off the train with 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 343 

him prepared to take her part in any emergency 
that might arise. ‘‘After threatening the mayor 
of the tawn, the homes of several miners were 
dynamited because they refused to join the or- 
ganization. Then the Pennsylvania State Con- 
stabulary interfered and since then everything 
has been quiet.” 

“But the I. W. W. headquarters have never 
been abandoned there,” said Dixie, “and with 
Heinric von Lertz there, I think it will be well 
if we stop over.” 

They arrived in Old Forge as quickly as a 
train could carry them. Grant in the guise of a 
professional agitator with the name of Guiseppe 
Fantona, and Dixie as a minature edition of 
Gurley Flynn. In Old Forge they found that 
the usual form of I. W. W. organization had 
been maintained, headquarters for the men mem- 
bers and headquarters for a woman’s auxiliary, 
the duty of the members of which was to spread 
propaganda to the wives, mothers and sweet- 
hearts of the miners. Grant was welcomed at the 
men’s headquarters which he found were in 
charge of Frank Little, later lynched at Butte, 
Montana for his activities; Stanley Dembriki, 
secretary of the I. W. W.; Joseph Graber, an 
unnaturalized German, and Angelo Faggi, a 
fugitive from Italian and French justice, then 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


844 

and now hiding from an American warrant. 
Dixie Mason excited no suspicion when she regis- 
tered at the headquarters of the auxiliary. 

A few days later came the first news of trouble. 
Dixie Mason hurrying from the women’s auxil- 
iary, sped forward to catch Harrison Grant, just 
as he was leaving the headquarters of the 
J. W. W. 

“There’s some trouble going on at the mines,’^ 
she announced. “We’ve just gotten orders to 
hurry there and cause a demonstration.” 

Grant nodded. 

“I just got the same sort of a tip. I think 
it’s a blind. I heard orders given to the man 
just ahead to report as soon as the constabulary 
was fully engaged there. Come on, we must 
shadow him.” 

They started forward. A moment later, from 
the direction of the mines, came a great sound 
of crashing timbers, of screams, and the rising 
of coal dust. Men and women appeared, run- 
ning forward from every direction. The clatter- 
ing of hoofs and the constabulary thundered 
past. Grant leaped to the center of the street. 

“Someone has released the brakes from a 
dump train,” he announced, “It crashed back in- 
to the shaft of the mine. Miners have been in- 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 345 

jured. The trouble’s on. Keep that man in 
front in view — don’t lose him!” 

They hui*ried on, still watching the form of the 
hurrying spy before them. They saw him rush 
to a corner where he might watch the mine dump, 
then stand there, his eyes roving in every direc- 
tion. A fight had started at the dump, between 
legitimate laborers and the I. W. W. agitators 
who seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Men 
fought, while women screamed. Agitators were 
running here, there, everywhere, blaming the 
dumping of the cars upon the mine owners and 
demanding that everyone join the I. W. W. that 
these men might be paid back for the damage 
they had caused. Again a troop of constabulary 
passed — ^then another and finally, Dixie and 
Grant saw the spy on the corner, suddenly turn 
and run. 

“After him — quick!” ordered the president of 
the Criminology Club — “he’s the one who will 
point out the real danger!” 

Down the street the spy ran, Dixie and Grant 
following him closely. Into tortuous alleys, 
across lets — finally to approach a great, ware- 
house-like building, where one or two other men 
could be seen entering. The two detectives 
skirted the building, approached it cautiously 
and examined it for some loophole, through 


346 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


which they might enter. But there seemed to be 
none. Here and there were great doors, from 
which shipping had emanated in other days — ^but 
each was caref ully locked and bolted now. Grant 
pressed his ear against one of these — and heard 
the jabbering and shouting of great numbers of 
men. He turned, and seeking a foothold, raised 
himself that he might peer through a corner of a 
window imperfectly covered from within. 

“Dixie,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” the girl was close beside him. “Do you 
see anything in there?” 

“Yes. Practically every I. W. W. in tovm is 
here. Someone is on the platform, talking to 
them. I ” 

“Can you make out who’s there?” 

“Dembriki’s one. Faggi’s another. And Hein- 
ric von Lertz!” 

“Von Lertz! Then it means ” 

“They’re bringing out parcels of something. 
Laying them on the platform so that they can 

easily be reax;hed. Hurry ” Grant turned, 

his face ’white. “Get the constabulary — quick! 
It’s dynamite!” 

In a flash Dixie Mason was pressing every 
muscle to the utmost as she ran through the lots 
and back toward the mines that she might sum- 
mon the members of the mounted police. Grant 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 347 

remained a minute longer at the window, then 
suddenl}^ dropped to the ground and again began 
to skirt the building. 

Here, there, everywhere, he searched, at last 
finding a back room to the building, that was 
separated from the main hall. He pressed against 
the door. The lock sagged — ^but did not open. 
Carefully he brought forth his skeleton keys, 
and ‘tried them, one after another. At last, a 
rusty creaking of the lock, a slight snap, and the 
door opened. Grant hesitated a moment, listen- 
ing for some sign that he had been overheard 
from within. But none came. Then he entered. 

Within the back room, he stopped again to lis- 
ten. From the other side of the door that sep- 
arated him from the main room of the meeting 
hall, he could hear the thick, heavy voice of 
Heinric von Lertz, apparently giving the last of 
a long series of orders: 

‘‘Imperial Germany expects every man of you 
to do his duty and to see that Union Labor is 
driven from Old Forge,” he was saying. “We 
have here enough dynamite to blow up every 
miner’s house and every coal mine in the district 
— and I want to see every bit of it used. As 
soon as we receive the word that everything is 
all right we will proceed ” 

“Here I am sir!” At the sound of the voice, 


848 » 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Grant opened the door ever so slightly, to see the 
form of the spy he had trailed, hurrying up the 
aisle. ‘‘The constabulary is all at the coal dumps, 
and they have their hands full. If we work 
quickly ” 

“All right. Line up, everybody. You will pass 
the platform, one at a time and receive your 
dynamite. Then, each man will cause one explo- 
sion — and the result will be that the whole city 
will be wrecked ! Hurry there, line up, line up 

Grant hurried back to the door for one look up 
the street. If Dixie were only on the way with 
the constabulary. If he could only catch sight of 
her, leading the plunging mass of horsemen on 
their way to the hall! But Harrison Grant looked 
in vain. There was no sight of the girl he loved, 
no sight of the hurrying horsemen that would 
mean safety for the town of Old Forge. Grant’s 
heart sank within him. Beyond him in the hall 
were more than two hundred desperate men and 
hundreds of pounds of explosives. And they 
must not be permitted to start forth on their 
journey of destruction! 

Grant hesitated only a second. Then as the 
line of destroyers within the main meeting hall 
started to receive their dynamite 

A hurtling form crashed through the door from 
the back room. Leaping toward Stanley Dem- 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 349 


briki, in charge of the dynamite, he felled him 
with a crashing blow from his fist. Heinric von 
Lertz took one look and ran tlirough the door 
that had been left open by the entrance of Har- 
rison Grant. But the I. W. W. members could 
only see tliis one form and could only know that 
Grant had interfered with their schemes of des- 
truction. A second of hesitation, then they rushed 
forward. 

But Grant was ready for them. A heavy chair 
stood nearby. He seized it and taking his place 
near the djmamite, felled the first man who ap- 
proached. The crackle of a revolver sounded, 
and a bullet splintered the w^ood just above liis 
head. Then a shout 

‘'Stop that shooting! You’re liable to explode 
the dynamite. No need- for that — we’ll get him!” 

Grant whirled. Again he brought the chair 
crashing downward, and F aggi had been knocked 
from the platform. The members of the I. W. 
W. recoiled slightly. Grant, white faced and 
grim, scowled at them. 

“I’d advise you not to try to touch this dyna- 
mite!” he ordered. “I’ll use this chair on any one 
who comes near — and I’ll swing to kill!” 

A grov/1 answered him, as a great, heavy 
shouldered German edged his way forward, and 
spring toward the platform. Grant kept his word. 


850 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


A second later, the German wavered in his tracks, 
stumbled and fell, to lay quite still beside the 
other two men on the floor. Again a recoil — 
but Grant knew that it was only for a minute. 

And in that minute, how his ears strained for 
the sound of galloping horses ! How he waited 
and hoped! 

Then a sudden rush of men. It seemed that 
by some common impulse, the whole great hall 
surged forward — climbing upon the platform, 
dodging and swirling, seeking to come under the 
defense that Harrison Grant kept up, ducking 
the blows of the heavy chair, surging back then 
coming forward again, striving to corner him, to 
beat him down 

High in the air went the chair to descend again 
— and to carry with it the form of a plotter. 
Again — and again — and again. Then Harrison 
Grant felt the chair wrested from his grasp and 
thrown far to one side. A screaming voice echoed 
in his ears 

“Now we’ve got him! Come on men!” 

Grant had his back to the wall. Regardless of 
the danger of exploding the dynamite he brought 
forth his revolvers. 

“Stand back there,” he shouted. “The first 
man who comes at me gets a bullet! Under- 
stand? Stand back there!” 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. . S51 

They hesitated just a second. Then the rush 
came again. The crackle of Grant’s revolver 
sounded — ^to be echoed by a groan as a man fell. 
Then the sheer weight of men bore him down, 
crushing his revolver from his grasp, pinioning 
his wrists, while fists beat upon his breast and his 
face. 

From far away came a slight clattering sound 
— the sound of hoof beats. It sent new life into 
Harrison Grant. He broke from his assailants 
and with tremendous crashing blows, again 
cleared a space before him. But only for a 
moment — then his opponents closed in again. 

But above the shouting, above the racking pain, 
above everything, could be heard the clattering of 
those hoofs — coming closer, closer, closer 

Sudden shouts came from the crowd that 
surged on the platform. The crashing of great 
blows against the doors. A new milling of the 
assailants, as they left the platform and sought 
to guard the doors of the great warehouse. But 
impossible. One after another, the dazed, waver- 
ing form of Harrison Grant saw the doors surge 
and splinter, as the trained horses of the con- 
stabulary sent thundering kicks against them. 
Panic stricken now, the members of the I. W. W. 
sought escape through those doors and through 
the windows of the great room. But that was 


352 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


impossible also. Beneath every window waited a 
member of the constabulary. And at the doors — 

One after another they yielded, to allow the 
entrance of the mounted men of the constabulary, 
riding straight into the meeting hall, their horses 
vaulting chairs and obstructions as they circled 
about the big room, rounding up the criminals. 
Resistance had disappeared. Like sheep they 
were herded to one end of the hall, the men who 
but a few minutes before had been obsessed with 
a mania for destruction. A smile came to Grant’s 
lijjs as he watched. Then, the whole hall went 
suddenly black before his eyes, and he fell to the 
platform unconscious from his hurts. 

When he became aware of the world again, it 
was to feel the tender touch of a woman’s hand 
and to hear a soft voice of sympathy. His eyes 
opened, to look into those of Dixie Mason, bend- 
ing over him, smoothing the hair from liis dis- 
colored temples, seeking to assuage his wounds 
and bruises*. He smiled in spite of the pain of 
his injuries. 

‘Tt is worth being hurt just to have you nurse 
me,” he said, then with .a sudden remembrance he 
attempted to rise to his feet. “The Constabu- 
lary?” he asked. “Did they arrest ” 

“Everyone who was in the hall except you,” 
came the answer of Dixie Mason. “But I am 


MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 858 

afraid that Heinie von Lertz must have run as 
soon as he saw you. He wasn’t found.” 

‘‘Couldn’t help it,” responded Grant cheer- 
fully. ‘T had my hands full.” 

“It doesn’t matter much, I think you will be 
forgiven,” laughed Dixie with him. “We will 
soon have Heinie where he can’t cause any more 
trouble. And anyway he has the cheerful news 
to take to the Embassy that another fine little 
plot has gone wrong and failed.” 


Chapter XV. 


THE GREAT DECISION 

The Kaiser’s note reached America and its 
stinging insults fanned into flame the coals of 
wrath which had been burning in the breasts of 
Americans since the revelations made by the dis- 
covery of the contents of Dr. Heinrich Albert’s 
portfolio, the recall of Captains von Papen and 
Boy-Ed, and the arrest in practically every com- 
munity in the country of one or more German 
plotters. Harrison Grant received a copy of the 
note from the wireless room of the Criminology 
Club as it was sent to the Department of State, 
and he was probably the first person in the 
United States to voice the opinion which became 
universal after the note was made public. 

‘‘This means war,” he commented to his 
trusted aide Cavanaugh who had brought him 
the message. 

“This means war,” said Count von Bernstorff, 
the Imperial German Ambassador, when with 
blanched face he had finished reading the note, 
354 


THE GREAT DECISION 


355 


couched in the insolent terms which he knew only 
the Great One of Germany, himself, would be 
permitted to use in diplomatic intercourse. Von 
Bernstorff turned pale at the thought of war with 
the United States for he, alone, of all the trusted 
advisers* of the Kaiser knew and appreciated the 
powers of America. 

“This means war,” was the verdict reached by 
every American as he read the note in the news- 
papers, a verdict prompted* by the fearless pa- 
triotic pride which beat in every breast. Then 
the individual American waited, reading each 
new development in the diplomatic engagement 
which followed -with bated breath, v/aited for the 
decision which they felt was inevitable. 

But there was no period of waiting for Harri- 
son Grant, nor the members of the Criminology 
Club. Dixie Mason and the other members of 
the Secret Service had no time to wait for the 
decision. Every other investigating branch of 
the government worked at high tension, for 
everyone w^ho had been engaged* in the secret 
warfare with German Agents knew that once 
war became inevitable the Kaiser’s spy army 
.would throw caution to the four winds and make 
the mightiest efforts to bring wanton destruction 
in every manner possible. 

Grant felt that there could be no doubt in the 


356 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


mind of Benistorff that war would result from 
the note and the conditions proposed to place 
upon American commerce. The night it was re- 
ceived he called a special meeting of the Crim- 
inology Club, and it was attended by Dixie 
Mason. 

“Men, the supreme test of the worth of our 
organization has come,” said Grant addressing 
the meeting. “The next few weeks will see the 
German spy army in the United States striving 
by every desperate means at their command to 
kill and destroy everything American. We must 
not fail in this supreme test. Beginning tonight 
we must shadow every member of the spy army 
in the country. His eveiy action must be inves- 
tigated, every person to whom he speaks must be 
regarded as a suspicious character. That is all. 
You will find your assignments in your letter 
boxes.” 

Harrison Grant had selected Heinric von 
Lertz as the spy for whose activities he would be 
responsible, and Dixie Mason had accepted the 
post of keeping watch over Baroness Verbecht, 
who had succeeded in gaining her liberty from 
the Tombs under bail, after the discovery of the 
invisible ink messages on her body by Grant and 
Mrs. Blank. Before either of the spies they 
were watching had made a suspicious move, re- 


357 


TJIE GREAT DECISION 

ports Were received from other operatives that 
the judgment of Grant that Germany was pre- 
paring for a break was correct. Any number of 
the lesser spies of the Kaiser in America had re- 
ceived orders direct from Washington which 
took them to the interned ships of Austria and 
Germany in all the harbors of the United States. 

“Not one of these ships must be useful to the 
United States in the event of war,” was the order 
delivered to each interned boat. “Where it is pos- 
sible engines must be destroyed, otherwise the 
boat must be sunk. Make plans now ani when 
the wireless lanes are filled with dots, just dots, 
then let the work commaice.” 

Nothing could be done to prevent the consum- 
mation of this plan for the holds of interned ves- 
sels were forbidden property to the Secret Ser- 
vice under international law. So, despite the 
fact that it was known from m.any sources that 
these were the orders which had been sent forth 
to every Austrian and German commander who 
had a boat in an American port, the best that 
could be done was to station operatives near 
every interned boat to rush aboard the minute 
war was declared. 

For several days Grant and Dixie had little 
to do except stay near the New York offices of 
Heinric von Lertz. Each morning he would go 


358 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


there ana spend the entire day until evening then 
go to the Hohenzollern Club. Apparently he 
had no part in any of the affairs which were en- 
gaging the other members of the Kaiser’s spy 
army in America. He saw no one and received 
none but the most ordinary messages. 

Then he suddenly became active. One even- 
ing just before he left his office he sent a long 
code message to Washington. The next morn- 
ing before the message had been deciphered for 
Grant, Von Lertz received a summons and went 
to Washington. Then he returned and started 
by automobile on a trip in which he employed 
every dodge he could think of, but Grant, Dixie 
and Sisson kept him in sight and at last found a 
real clue to his plans. 

The three stood in the office of a small rail- 
road station in a suburb of New York, firing 
cross-questions at the worried, frightened station 
agent. For hours, they had been questioning 
him, at first without result, but at last to see the 
gradual breaking down of his defense. One by 
one he had been forced to admissions — first that 
he had known the man they had shadowed to the 
station, Heinric von Lertz; secondly, that he had 
given this man a ticket for another city, just in 
time to allow him to catch the fast mail that had 
stopped there for orders, and third, that he had 


THE GREAT DECISION 


859 


received orders from Heinric von Lertz just be- 
fore he had boarded the train. 

“What were those orders?” Harrison Grant 
had asked the question fifty times. Forty-nine 
times the station agent had refused to answer. 
But now: 

“To go ahead with the plans that we had 
made.” 

“Plans for what?” 

“Wiretapping.” 

“mere?” 

“On the Pennsylvania system. Myself and 
several others had figured out a system whereby 
we could tap the wires leading from the dis- 
patcher’s offices, mix up the orders and cause 
wrecks all over the system. The Pennsylvania 
is a big system. It undoubtedly will carry many 
soldiers after war has been declared — and we 
wanted to injure it as much as possible.” 

“To say nothing of causing the deaths of hun- 
dreds of American citizens — non-combatants,” 
said Grant angrily. Then he turned to the tele- 
graph key. “Read me the notes you have taken 
Dixie.” he ordered, as he began to call the Crim- 
inology Club in New York, “I must send the in- 
formation into the Club and see that the^other 
men in tliis conspiracy are put under arrest.” 


360 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


A half hour of telegraphing, then Grant and 
Dixie turned again to their prisoner. 

“What other orders did Von Lertz give you 
before he left?” 

“None.” 

“Are you quite sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Didn’t he even leave an address where you 
could reach him?” 

“Oh, yes — ^he did that.” 

“Where?” 

“On board the interned steamer Liehenfels 
in Charleston Harbor.” 

Grant sent a* quick glance into the eyes of 
Dixie Mason. She returned the* gaze. Then 
the president of the Criminology Club called to 
Sisson, his operative, standing just outside the 
door. 

“Take this fellow into New York and put him 
in the Tombs,” he ordered. “I will not return 
to the club. My address for the next few days 
will be Charleston, S. C.” 

And so it was that Dixie Mason and Harri- 
son Grant rushed to Charleston,^ to learn, if pos- 
sible, the motive of Hieinric von Lertz, and to 
seek to forestall the impossible. And while they 
hurried on — 

“The representative of the Secretary of State 


THE GREAT DECISION 


361 


is waiting, sir,” said Bemstorff’s servant. The 
arch-spy of Imperial Germany raised his eye- 
brows. 

“So soon?” he asked. “Albert — he turned to 
his privy counselor — “please be sure to remain. 
And you — ” he addressed the servant again — 
“watch for the signal. I think the gentlemen is 
bringing me my passports.” 

And the Ambassador was right. Five minutes 
later, as Bemstorlf stretched forth his hand to 
receive the passports that meant his explosion 
from the United States, he apparently accident- 
ally dropped a handkerchief. And as the white 
cambric fluttered to the floor, the servant, who 
had been waiting at the door, turned and hurried 
away. 

On the way out, however, he paused, with dis- 
pleasure written in every line of his wrinkled 
face. 

“It is absolutely impossible for the Ambassa- 
dor to see anyone,” he said somewhat gruffly to 
the woman who had halted him, “he is extremely 
busy.” 

“The Ambassador will see me — or I will know 
the reason why,” came the cool answer of the 
woman. “Tell him that Mrs. Blank is awaiting 
him.” 


362 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


‘T cannot take him the message now. You 
must wait !” 

“Very well.” She walked to a couch in the 
ante-room. The servant sped on with the news 
of his message — the news that was to flash to 
every interned liner and gathering place of Ger- 
man spies in America. Diplomatic relations had 
been broken! The Ambassador had been handed 
his passports. 

So it was that dots, dots, nothing but dots be- 
gan to flash forth from a private wireless — and 
continued to flash for eight long hours. Speedily 
those dots found their way to concealed wireless 
receiving stations on every interned ship in 
American ports, to cause a rush of destruction as 
mallets, sedges — even bombs — were used upon 
the engines and machinery of the great ships. 

Meanwhile following the visit of the represen- 
tative of the Secretary of State, Bernstorff 
stared at his passports, and then turned with as- 
perity toward his privy counselor. 

“So you have caused it at last, eh?” he asked. 

“I?” Dr. Albert stared. “And what did I 
have to do with it?” 

“Everything!” he snarled. “America would 
have known nothing of our plans if it had not 
been for you. It was you who gave them the lead 
to ever>i;hing. You lost your portfolio. They 


THE GREAT DECISION 363 

found in there, the papers that gave the Secret 
Service the main clue to all our activities. It was 
easy for them to follow the other plans and plots 
after that. And so, why should they not accuse 
us of wrong-doing? Oh, Albert, why were you 
so foolish? Why did you allow that information 
to be lost?” 

“And I suppose,” answered Albert somewhat 
caustically “you have never given any informa- 
tion? I ” 

“I? Certainly not!” 

“Be careful. Count!” 

It was a woman’s voice. Von Bernstorff 
wliirled as though struck by a bullet to look into 
the smiling face of Mrs. Evelyn Blank. The 
broker’s wife came forward. 

“I really had to come to Dr. Albert’s assist- 
ance,” she cooed. “Really you are not giving 
yourself proper credit. So I felt impelled to 
come forth and say in your own behalf that un- 
doubtedly you have given up more information 
than he ever had.” 

Dr. Albert smiled with the comer of his mouth. 
V on Bernstorff gasped. 

“Yes,” continued Mrs. Blank, “Dr. Albert 
had one misfortune, but he never fell in love with 
the wife of some one else. That should never 
be done, and above all tilings you should never 


364 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


tell ber State secrets, especially if they are secrets 
wh'ch concern the country she loves. For she 
miglit send t}?e information to the Secret Service. 
I came in to say good-bye. Count, I understand 
you are going away.” 

And still smiling, she left him standing there, 
his mouth open, his eyes staring, his hands clutch- 
ing. Dr. Albert aj)preciated even more than 
Mrs. Blank the exquisite revenge which the 
W'oman had gotten for the degradation she had 
undergone at the hands of her husband and the 
Imperial German Ajnbassador. He knew that it 
was not for him to jeer, that Von Bernstorff was 
still his master, and so he moved toward the por- 
tieres. 

‘T have matters which you know of to attend 
to in New York,” he said, “and must be going.” 

“Yes, yes,” said Von Bernstorff pulling him- 
self together, “The matter of the little fireworks 
to accompany our departure. By all means go.” 

While Albert was on his way to New York to 
arrange for new mischief, Heinric von Lertz ar- 
rived in Charleston, closely followed by Grant 
and Dixie. The German spy found that he was 
too late, for diplomatic relations had been severed. 
He had come to get men for a railroad plot, but 
he was now on the Liebenfels striving to con- 


365 


\ 

THE GREAT DECISION 

vince the Ccipiain that the big liner should be 
sunk immediately. 

“Don’t be foolish,” he argued. “What are you 
afraid of? International law prevents any mem- 
ber of the Secret Service coming below decks.” 

“But what will happen when the ship sinks? 
We v/ill have to go above then — and take to the 
small boats.” 

“What of it? It’s our ship, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but there are laws against the blocking 
of harbors.” 

“Chicken heart!” sneered Von Lertz, “help me 
with these sea cocks!” 

‘Captain — captain!” It was a voice outside the 
door. A second later, the frightened face of a 
mate showed at the opening. “There are a man 
' and a woman on deck who say they’re from the 
Secret Service. They’ve got harbor police with 
them and have arrested all the crew up there. 
They want to see you ” 

The Captain whirled and started for the door. 
Von Lertz caught at him and failed. Then, as 
the door slammed, the German spy, cursing un- 
der his breath, turned again to the opening of the 
sea-cocks. The great water inlets slid open. 
The green water of the harbor spouted within. 
Von Lertz shouted in happiness — and started 
for the door. Then he gasped= — the door was 


866 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


locked — ^battened from without where the fasten- 
ings had fallen into place as the Captain had run 
forth! The dooi 'vvas battened end from the sea- 
cocks the waters of Charleston Harbor were 
pouring into the sliip in an ever increasing flow. 

Upon the deck of the Liebenfeh, Harrison 
Grant and Dixie JMason had arrested the crew 
and the captain of the liner. Already the boat 
had begun to list slightly, from the water pour- 
ing into the hold from the sea-cocks. And as 
the small boats went over the side and started 
toward the shore, carrying the men who were to 
be accused of attempting to block the harbor of 
Charleston, the one man who had caused the dis- 
aster, stood waist deep in water in the engine 
room, striving vainly to find some way of escape, 
dully chattering to himself in his fear. For 
Heinric von Lertz, German spy, was facing 
death through his own actions. 

Gradually and steadily the water rose, while 
the spy clawed at the tightly fastened door which 
separated him from the companionways and 
from safety. Hurriedly he tried to force his way 
through the rapidly rising water, back to the sea 
cocks, that he might close them again. But im- 
possible. The rush of water had become so great 
that there was no stemming it now. He screamed 
in terror as he fought against the water as though 


THE GREAT DECISION 867 

he would force it back with his bare hands. But 
still it rose. 

Higher and higher, to his breast, to his should- 
ers, to his chin — while the henchman of Germany 
clawed and struggled and fought against his 
fate, like some maddened animal. Then, at last, 
a final, spasmodic struggle; the dim form of a 
weaving figure as it swayed in the water. Then 
bubbles. Heinric von Lertz, murderer, incen- 
diary, thief, and spy for Imperial Germany, was 
dead. 

Dead, while the arch-spies sought him in vain. 
Dead, while Bernstorff and Albert gathered for 
their last conference. Dead, w^hile all America 
thrilled at the thought of war and while the 
agents of Germany made their final plans for the 
last concerted blow against America under their 
personal management. 

They had come to New York from Washing- 
ton, after bidding farewell there. At the pier, 
their baggage had been loaded aboard the Em/- 
enk VIII j ready for the trip to Germany, via 
Copenhagen, when Bernstorff looked at his 
watch, then turned to Albert. 

“You are sure that every preparation has been 
made?’’ he asked. 

“Quite sure. I was at the shop last night and 


3681 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


was told that they would work all night to finish 
their supply of bombs.” 

“But you have received no report this mom- 

ingr> 

“No.” 

Bernstorff walked to the window. 

“It is a grey, gloomy day,” he said. “The red 
glow of fire would throw quite a reflection 
against those clouds.” 

“And it would also silhouette the Statue of 
Liberty quite nicely.” 

“Yes,” laughed Bernstorff, “by the way, I won- 
der what His Highness will do with the Statue 
of Liberty when we invade America?” 

“By the time our navy finishes bombarding 
New York, there will be little of it left,” an- 
swered Albert tersely. “But you were talking 
about my bomb-makers.” 

“Yes.” Bernstorff looked out again at the 
clouds. “As I said, the glow of fires and explo- 
sions will form a pretty sight against those clouds. 
It will he very nice for us to look at as we steam 
away. Therefore — ” and he snapped open his 
watch — “I would suggest that you hurry out 
there for a final report and join me in the cabin 
of the Frederik VIII/^ 

“Very well, your excellency.” 

Albert departed, but did not notice that an 


THE GREAT DECISION 369 

automobile followed him as he hurried away from 
the hotel. 

An hour later, Dr. Albert stood in a ram- 
shackle building at the outskirts of town, giving 
his final instructions. 

“Remember, that as soon as Ambassador Bem- 
storff and myself are safely on board the Fred- 
erik VIII , you are to start a bomb campaign in 
the harbor of New York that will eclipse any- 
thing ever attempted before,’’ he said. “Do you 
understand?” 

“Perfectly.” 

“This must be greater even than the Black 
Tom explosion.” Dr. Albert was insistent upon 
his point. “There are munitions ships on the 
Jersey shore. See that each one of them receives 
a bomb. Their explosion alone should wreck 
many of the skyscrapers in the business district 
of New York and cause a panic there. And 
America must be made to realize that she is fight- 
ing a stubborn enemy — one that will stop at noth- 
ing. And you — ” he pointed a finger at the cap- 
tain of the bomb-throwers — “you must be the 
first to demonstrate the iron will and steel fight- 
ing spirit that will enable Imperial Germany to 
conquer the World 1” 

“It shaU be done.” 

“Very well. The Ambassador and myself will 


370 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


watch for the explosions as the Frederik VIII 
starts on its journey across the Atlantic.” 

“You shall not be disappointed.” 

Dr. Albert bowed. Then, smiling and happy, 
he departed, not knowing that from the shelter of 
a doorway, the keen eyes of Dixie Mason had 
watched his every movement. Instead he felt 
quite safe, and satisfied as his limousine rolled 
back toward town. He was leaving America. 
Leaving after years of intrigue, of dastardly 
comiivance against a country that had striven to 
be friendly. Leaving — and in departing, taking 
with him the assurance that his devilish ideas of 
murder and devastation would be carried forth 
to the utmost, even after he no longer took an 
active part. 

Leaving America! The thought was in Bern- 
storff’s mind as he stood in his stateroom of the 
Frederick VIII. All about him were flowers and 
wreaths, the gifts of pro- Germans and of mis- 
guided Americans who had refused to believe the 
revelations that had been brought forth against 
Germany. Crowds were about the Ambassador, 
who stood shaking hands with the men and 
women he had met during the years of his stay 
in America as Germany’s Ambassador and plot- 
ter. A few crocodile tears were in his eyes. 

“No one can ever know how it grieves me to 


THE GREAT DECISION 


371 


leave America!” he was saying. ‘‘No one can 
ever know the aching that is in my heart that 
this unpleasantness has arisen between two great 
countries. It was my dream that we should have 
remained friends — and it shall always be my de- 
sire never to see war come between America and 
Germany. Ah, America — how I hate to leave 
you!” And in a large measure, Ambassador 
BernstorfF was telling the truth. For had not 
America furnished him a most amusing sequence 
of entertainment? Had not one “performance” 
after another been staged for him by liis hard 
working spies, ranging from the killing of wo- 
men and children to the mere destruction of fac- 
tories, shipping and warehouses, filled with 
bandages and surcease of pain for the wounded 
— ^the stores of the Red Cross? Had he not 
gained amusement eyery day in his statements of 
neutrality and friendliness, as he met the cor- 
respondents in the Embassy? Yes, it was more 
than painful for him to leave America. There 
would be no mass of spy code messages for him 
to read each morning. There would be no morn- 
ing copy of the newspaper to gloat over — as its 
columns told of the destruction wrought by the 
bomb-planters of the German spy*system. 

“Ah, America,” he whined again, “how it 
grieves me to say goodby!” 


372 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


Then he turned at the sight of Albert. 

“Well?” he asked. 

“Everything is arranged, your Excellency.” 

“Good!” Then Bernstorff turned and masked 
his smile with a blinking of his crocodile-tear 
smeared eyes, as a new shower of flowers w’^as 
tossed at him from pro-Germans on every side. 
Suddenly he stared. Harrison Grant of the 
Criminology Club was facing him, and holding 
forth a small package. 

“Since everyone is making presents. Your Ex- 
cellency,” said the detective with the slightest 
tinge of sarcasm, “I thought it only right that I 
should make one also.” 

He handed the package to the Ambassador. 
Wonderingly, Bernstorff unfastened the string, 
and took the paper from the package. Then he 
stared. 

“Checkers!” he said wryly. 

“Yes, Your Excellency,” answered the presi- 
dent of the Criminology Club, with a laugh, “it’s 
your move, you know.” 

And before the Ambassador could reply, Har- 
rison Grant w^as gone, to reach the deck of the 
ship and make his way to the dock. There he 
saw the hurrying form of Dixie Mason — and 
rushed to her. 

“What’s wrong?” 


THE GREAT DECISION 373 

“A great deal. There’s a plot against the har- 
bor. A¥here are your men?” 

“Scattered about the dock. I can gather them 
all up in five minutes.” 

“Hurry! There is no time to lose!” 

A rush by Harrison Grant. A hasty sum- 
moning of members of the Criminology Club. 

Then, as the Frederik VIII moved down the 
harbor of New York, Harrison Grant, Sisson, 
Cavanaugh, Stewart, Dixie Mason and other 
members of the Secret Service, leaped into auto- 
mobiles, to be rushed far into the outskirts of 
town. 

In the mangy room of the bomb-maker, the 
captain was giving his final instructions. 

“Has everyone a bomb?” 

“Yes.” 

“Very well. Remember what Dr. Albert told 
us — ^this explosion must be greater even than the 
Black Tom. We must see that each bomb ac- 
complishes more than its object — it must be 
placed in such a way that it will either start fires 
following the explosion or cause other detona- 
tions as a result of its own. For instance, the 
munitions ships. The explosion of the bomb will 
cause an explosion in the hold of the ship where 
guncotton, nitro-glycerin and T.N.T. are stored. 
Then there are the powder factories on the Jer- 


374 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


sey side, to say nothing of the chemical works. 
See that they are all destroyed. Remember al- 
ways, that America soon is to be at war with 
Germany, and we must work while there are still 
no provisions made for the safety of the indus- 
tries. America must be crippled even before it 
h’as a chance to enter this war. So not one of 
you must fail! Now, go!” 

The men crowded forth. They hurried down 
the stairway — into the apparently empty hall 
beneath. And then 

From doorways, from beneath the stairs, from 
outside, from everywhere came members of the 
Secret Service, to leap upon the bomb carriers, 
to take them by surprise, to carry them off their 
feet by the suddenness and severity of their at- 
tack. One by one they were downed. Then, 
three men were sent up the stairway by Harri- 
son Grant to capture the old bomb-maker him- 
self and the remainder of his supplies. 

Here and there about the hall, the fight surged. 
Harrison Grant suddenly swerved from his at- 
tack upon a bomb-planter, as another leaped 
upon him from the rear, and, clutching his hands 
tight about the detective’s throat, sought to choke 
the life from him. Grant gagged; his eyes bulged. 
He struggled to stiffen the cords of his neck 
against the clutching hands from the rear. But 


THE GREAT DECISION 


875 


in* vain. The world began to grow dark. He 
wavered — he stumbled — then suddenly felt the 
hands loosen their grip as there came the crack- 
ing sound of a blow. Two arms closed about him. 
Harrison Grant opened his eyes — ^to look into 
those of Dixie Mason. 

“I got him,” was her simple announcement. 
“Hit him on the head with the butt of my revol- 
ver. I was afraid to shoot — you both were so 
close together.” 

“Good little Dixie!” Grant pressed her hand, 
then hurried to the fight again. 

But the fight vas over. The bomb-planters 
had been subdued. Outside there sounded the 
clanging of a patrol wagon. That afternoon, on 
the deck of the Frederik VIII, Bernstorff and 
Albert watched in vain for the sight of explosion 
or of fire. Germany’s last great destructive plot 
against America had failed. 

Weeks later, Harrison Grant and Dixie 
•Mason stood on the balcony of the Criminology 
Club, looking down into the street below. Here, 
there, everywhere, newsboys were shouting the 
new’s of the declaration of war. From far away, 
came the sound of a military band. Then, march- 
ing down the street, their files straight and' 
clean, their arms shining brightly in the sun, their 
strong, sturdy forms showing the sleek-muscled 


376 


THE EAGLE’S EYE 


strength that only American fighters J)ossess, 
marched the crack Seventh Regiment of New 
York on its spring parade. Harrison Grant 
watched, his eyes gleaming happily. 

“Dixie,” he said at last, ‘T never saw anything 
to give me so much happiness — and yet, so much 
sorrow.” 

“And why the sorrow?” She looked at him 
quickly. 

“Because, now that we have finished our work 
for the safety of America at home, we must part. 
I received this morning my Commission as a 
captain in the Army Intelligency*. My work will 
be abroad.” 

“And mine will be abroad also,” said Dixie 
quietly. 

“Abroad? You ?” 

“In the Red Cross.” 

Harrison Grant laughed happily. They had 
stepped into the clubrooms now, the heavy cur- 
tains of the windows falling behind them. Grant 
took the hands of the girl he loved into his — and 
held them tight. 

“Do you know ” and there was a strange 

little halting in his voice, “I believe that I could 
make a record for myself if I only knew that — ” 

“What, Harry?” 

“That — ^well, that there was a Mrs. Harrison 


THE GREAT DECISION 


877 


Grant watching my progress and ” 

“Well?” Dixie was smiling. Grant slowly 
drew her toward him. “Well?” she asked again. 
Harrison Grant stammered. 

“And — and, oh, you know what I mean!” 
Then, his words f aihng, he looked quickly over his 
shoulder, saw that no one was watching, drew the 
little Secret Service girl tight into his embrace — 
and kissed her. 


The End. 


The story of “The Eagle’s 
Eye” has been produced in 
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ton Releasing Corporation. 

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